igij 
a   '   .  - 


OLD     HA  UN. 


THE     PAWNBROKER, 


OLD    HAUN. 


OLD   HAUN, 


THE    PAWNBROKER 


OR, 


THE    ORPHAN'S    LEQACY. 


2.  &alt  of  NtJn  gorfe,  jFountoft  on 


NEW  YORK: 
RUDD     &     CARLETON, 

810    BROADWAY. 
1857 

V 


EHTIRSD  according  to  Act  of  Cnngress,  in  the  year  1856,  by 
LIVER  MORE    &    RUDD, 

In  the  Clerk'i  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Unit«d  Statei  for  the  Southern  DijKit  of  New 


PRINTED  BT  R.  CRAIGHBiDl 

Carton  33uirt>tng, 

81,   83,    and  85  Centre  Slree.. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Little  Family — The  Miniature — Anna  Hervey  and  Mich  Lynch  visit  the  Pawn- 
broker—Their Interview — The  Result — The  Bank-note — Its  value — The  sorrowing 
Wife, 9 


CHAPTER  n. 

Old  Haun  gloats  over  his  Prize— Cornell  calls— Borrows  Fifty  Dollars— Receives  a 
Letter  from  New  Orleans  and  a  Draft  for  $500 — Anna  and  Mich  selling 
Matches, 34 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  Sick  Husband — The  Wife  seeks  a  Physician — The  Assault  and  Rescue — Doctor 
Foster— Death  of  Edward  Hervey — The  Fatherless  Child — The  Doctor's  Plans — 
The  new  Home  of  Mrs.  Hervey  and  Anna, 50 


CHAPTER  IV. 


The  Search— Cornell  again  visits  the  Pawnbroker— Haun  exhibits  the  Miniature — 
The  excitement  of  Cornell — The  Offer — Haun  finds  Mich — The  Search  for  Anna — 
Mich  and  Doctor  Marsh — The  Schemes  of  Cornell— The  Bargain — The  Bond, .  81 


CHAPTER    V. 


The  Guardian— The  Story  of  Mrs.  Hervey— The  Promise  of  Dr.  Foster — Bridget,  the 
Servant — A  welcome  Christmas— The  pleasure  of  Doctor  Foster,    .        .        .  116 


\ 


20P071 7 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Cornell  writes  to  New  Orleans— Receives  a  Reply— The  News — Visits  Haun— Cor- 
nell repents  of  the  Step  taken — Leaves  for  New  Orleans — The  Will  of  Leonard- 
Cornell  takes  possession  of  the  Property— The  Obligation— Haun's  Letter— The 
Reply— Mich  meets  Foster— Visits  Anna — The  Mystery, 184 


CHAPTER  VH. 

The  Mother  and  Daughter — The  Clergyman — The  Prayer — The  Departed — Affliction 
of  Anna, 161 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Haun  receives  Cornell's  Letter — His  Resolution — Meets  Mich — The  proposed  Meet- 
ing—The Result— The  Suspicion  of  Dr.  Foster — Haun  calls  at  the  House  of  Dr. 
Foster— Interview  with  Anna— Doctor  Foster  excited — Visits  the  Surrogate, .  174 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Doctor  Foster  calls  upon  Haun — His  Threat — Returns  Home — The  Vow  of  Haun 
— Again  meets  Mich  —  Mich  informs  Doctor  Foster  —  The  Plan— The  Plot  of 
Haun, 197 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Mysterious  Disappearance — Effect  of  Haun's  Letter — Cornell,  reckless,  lives  in 
Extravagance — Haun  receives  Cornell's  Reply — Dr.  Foster  visits  Mr.  Pierce,  the 
Lawyer — The  Doctor,  on  his  return,  finds  Anna  absent — Ofiers  a  Reward — The 
Search — The  Doctor's  Despair — Relates  the  Circumstances  to  Mr.  Pierce — His 
Advice — The  Sheriff  visits  Haun's  Shop — The  Premises  Searched — Mich's  Disco- 
covery — Searching  the  Ship — Anna  Found— Escape  of  Haun, ....  217 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Crowd  around  the  Pawnbroker's  Shop — Destruction  of  the  Premises — The  Tool 
of  Haun — He  returns  to  his  Shop— The  Arrest — The  Bribe  and  Release — Gets  on 
Board  of  a  Vessel  bound  to  Havana — Escapes  from  the  City, ....  243 


•   CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Joy  of  Anna — The  Doctor  places  her  with  his  Friend,  the  Clergyman— Con- 
sults his  Lawyer— Mich  Occupies  a  new  Situation— Doctor  Foster  and  Anna  visit 
the  Country— Mr.  Pierce  and  his  Student, .262 


CONTENTS.  Vll 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  News  from  New  Orleans — Mr.  Pierce  writes  again — Haun  Arrives  in  New 
Orleans — Haun  calls  upon  Cornell — The  Interview — The  Encounter — The  Blow — 
The  attempted  Escape— The  Pursuit— The  Capture— Confession  of  Cornell,  .  284 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Haun  in  Prison — Attempts  to  Escape — Alarm  of  the  Jailer — Death  of  Haun — Dr. 
Foster  obtains  the  Property — Anna  is  placed  at  School— Edward  Kandall— The 
two  Students, 803 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Noon-Day  of  Life — Anna's  Eighteenth  Birth-Day — The  Party — Its  Results — The  two 
Young  Men, 812 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Snaring  the  Bird — The  Horseback  Ride — The  Protestations  of  Edward  Randall — The 
Engagement— Doctor  Foster  Disapproves, .  884 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Clouds  and  Shadows — Randall  with  his  Companions — The  Midnight  Brawl — Benson 
meets  Mich— Informs  him  of  the  Night's  Scene — The  Sleepless  Night,      .        .  353 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Pressing  the  Siege— Dr.  Foster's  Suspicions — Randall  urges  the  Day  of  Marriage — 
The  Quarrel, 371 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Trailing  the  Fox — Doctor  Foster  consults  his  Lawyer— Mr.  Pierce  engages  Mich  in 
the  Scheme— Seeks  Benson— Their  Walk — Mich  communicates  to  Mr.  Pierce  In- 
formation obtained  —  Randall  invites  Anna  to  ride  — The  Recognition  —  His 
Employer — The  Check  and  Cash  Books — The  Discovery,  .  .  .  393 


CHAPTER    XX. 

Setting  the  Trap — The  Mystery— Randall  importunes  Anna  Hervey— Leaves  In 
Anger, •  .414 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  Expose — Mich's  Discovery— His  Anxiety— The  Letter  and  Reply— Doctor  Fos- 
ter communicates  Important  Information 429 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Hearts  United  —  Disappearance  of  Randall — Anna's  Twentieth  Birth-Day  —  The 
Engagement — The  Wedding-Day — The  successful  Attorney 446 


OLD  HATJN  THE  PAWNBROKER 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAWNING    THE     LOCKET. 

UPON  a  miserable  bed,  in  a  small  attic  room  in  one  of  the 
crowded  thoroughfares  of  New  York  city,  lay  Edward 
Hervey. 

The  cheerful  sunlight  streaming  in  through  the  narrow 
window,  and  the  gradually  increasing  tumult  and  bustle  of 
life  far  below,  told  the  sufferer  that  another  night  of  rest- 
lessness and  pain  had  passed. 

By  his  side  sat  an  untiring  watcher,  his  fond  and  devoted 
wife.  It  was  her  hand  that  bathed  his  brow  and  put  the 
cup  to  his  parched  lips.  Cold  water  was  'all  that  she  could 
offer  him. 

Not  a  morsel  of  food  was  there  of  any  kind.  Through 
the  long  and  weary  hours  of  the  night  had  she  sat  patiently 

1* 


10         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBEOKEK. 

by  him,  soothing,  caressing,  and  comforting  him.  While 
herself  enduring  the  cruel  pangs  of  hunger,  she  had  given  to 
her  only  child,  who  now  lay  sleeping  upon  her  little  bed  in 
the  opposite  corner  of  the  room,  the  last  crust  of  which  she 
was  possessed.  The  child  slept  calmly,  forgetful  of  the  want 
and  destitution  which  surrounded  her. 

There  was  a  small  stove  in  the  room,  but  it  was  cold. 
The  little  food  they  had  been  able  to  obtain  needed  no  fire 
to  prepare  it.  It  was  yet  in  mild  October,  and  the  cheerless 
prospect  of  winter  with  its  chilling  winds  and  bitter  cold  was 
still  before  them. 

Upon  one  side  of  the  low  room,  and  almost  touching  the 
ceiling,  stood  a  bureau.  It  was  of  mahogany  ;  the  fashion 
and  workmanship  were  old,  and  told  the  tale  of  altered  for- 
tunes— told  that  this  now  destitute  family  had  once  enjoyed 
all  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of  wealth.  It  ill  accorded  with 
the  small  deal  table,  and  the  common  wooden  chairs — two 
of  which  in  addition  to  the  other  articles  constituted  the 
whole  of  the  furniture  of  the  cheerless  room.  But  notwith- 
standing the  appearance  of  extreme  poverty,  there  was  an  air 
of  neatness  pervading  the  whole. 

The  sick  man  moved  restlessly,  and  soon  awoke  from  his 
unquiet  sleep.  Opening  his  eyes  he  grasped  with  his  own 
thin  and  almost  transparent  hand,  that  of  his  wife,  and 
said — 

"  Mary,  my  dear  wife,  this  cannot  last  long,  God  grant 
for  your  sake  it  may  not." 

She  clasped  convulsively  his  hand,  and  with   all   of  a 


PAWNING     THE     LOCKET.  11 

woman's  tenderness  and  devotedness  in  her  manner  and 
voice,  exclaimed : — 

"  Edward,  do  not  say  that,  what  have  I  to  live  for  after 
you  are  gone  ?  If  you  only  had  some  nourishing  food,  I 
know  you  would  be  better." 

"  Mary,"  said  he,  "  do  not  even  hope  that  I  can  be  any 
better.  It  is  vain  to  think  so,  for  I  am  conscious  that  I  am 
rapidly  failing.  Do  not  despair.  Remember  that  Anna  will 
have  none  left  but  you  when  I  am  gone.  Poor  child  !  God 
protect  both  you  and  her.  I  little  dreamed,  Mary,  when  you 
became  my  wife  that  .1  should  leave  you  thus  ;"  and  the  poor 
man  turned  his  head  away  to  hide  the  tears  that  sprung  to 
his  eyes. 

For  a  moment  they  were  both  silent ;  then  he  turned  to 
her  and  said  : — 

"  Is  Anna  asleep  yet  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  must  awaken  her,  for  you  must  have  some- 
thing to  eat,  and  I  cannot  leave  you." 

"But  you  have  no  money,  what  will  you  do ?"  asked  he, 
sighing  deeply. 

"  No,  Edward  ;  I  have  none,  but  there  is  that  miniature 
of  my  mother,  I  can  sell  that,  or  perhaps  pawn  it,"  and  the 
tears  gushed  forth  at  the  thought  of  parting  with  this  last 
relic  of  former  happiness.  It  had  been  retained  until  she 
had  disposed  of  every  thing  else  except  the  old  bureau, 
"which  was  worth  but  little  ;  but  she  confidently  expected 
that  the  miniature,  being  elaborately  mounted  and  finished, 
would  bring  a  considerable  sum. 


12         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

Rising,  she  went  to  the  little  bed  in  the  corner,  and  bend- 
ing over,  parted  the  brown  hair  from  off  her  child's  forehead 
and  kissed  her,  saying  : — 

"  Anna  !  darling  !  come,  jump  up,  and  go  and  get  some 
bread  for  poor  sick  papa." 

The  child  rose  quickly  and  quietly,  throwing  her  small 
arms  about  her  mother's  neck,  crossed  the  room  and  laid  her 
tiny  hand  upon  her  father's  cheek,  and  kissed  him,  saying  : 

"  Does  papa  feel  better  now  ?" 

Mr.  Hervey  turned  his  sunken  eyes  upon  her  for  a  moment, 
gazed  into  her  face  without  speaking,  and  then  with  a  voice 
trembling  with  emotion,  said  : 

"  God  bless  you,  my  darling,  I  shall  soon  be  better,  I 
shall  soon  be  out  of  pain.  But  is  not  my  Anna  hungry  ?" 

"No  !  no  !"  said  Anna,  quickly  turning  to  her  mother, 
"  but,  mother,  help  me  fasten  my  dress,  and  I  will  go  and 
get  papa  some  bread." 

The  poor  child  looked  eagerly  into  her  mother's  face, 
knowing  that  she  had  spent  the  last  sixpence  for  bread  the 
day  before,  and  wondered  how  they  were  to  buy  any  now. 

Then  she  thought  perhaps  there  is  something  else  to  sell, 
for  she  had  been  sent  out  repeatedly  of  late  to  dispose  of 
some  small  article  of  furniture  or  of  wearing  apparel,  or 
some  ornament,  till  she  knew  of  nothing  remaining  to  thern\ 
which  they  could  spare.  And  as  her  eye  glanced  around  the 
room  she  unconsciously  gave  utterance  to  her  thoughts. 

"  There's  nothing  but  the  bureau  left,  we  don't  need  that 
now,  as  we  have  no  clothes  to  put  in  it." 


PAWNING     THE     LOCKET.  13 

Mr.  Hervey  sighed,  and  turned  his  eyes  away  from  his 
child,  for  this  was  the  hardest  of  all  his  trials.  To  see  his 
dearly  loved  and  cherished  one,  so  young  and  innocent,  suffer 
for  food  while  he  had  none  to  give.  To  see,  day  by  day,  the 
frail  barriers  breaking  away  between  them  and  utter  starva- 
tion, was  too  much  for  him  to  bear,  and  he  groaned  in  agony 
of  spirit. 

"  Papa,  dear  papa,  are  you  in  pain  ?"  asked  Anna, 
tenderly. 

"  My  darling  Anna,  what  is  to  become  of  you,  and  your 
poor  mother  when  I  am  gone  ?" 

"  Papa,  don't  feel  bad,"  said  Anna,  while  the  scalding 
tears  were  streaming  down  her  pale  cheek,  "  I  can  work.  I 
will  take  care  of  mamma.  I  am  going  to-day  to  see  if  the 
man  in  the  basement  will  let  me  seh1  some  matches  for  him. 
He  asked  me  one  day  if  I  would  like  to  sell  them,  and  then  I 
could  earn  some  money,  and  buy  you  nice  things  to  eat." 
The  recital  of  her  little  plans  had  already  cheered  her 
affectionate  heart  and  dried  her  tears. 

"  Well,  Anna  !  you  may  try,"  said  her  mother,  "  but  you 
must  not  be  disappointed  if  you  do  not  succeed,  for  remem- 
ber you  are  but  a  little  girl  and  not  yet  accustomed  to  the 
rough  ways  of  the  world." 

"  Why,  mother,  I  am  almost  ten  years  old,  and  I  have 
seen  little  girls  and  boys  selling  matches,  who  were  not 
nearly  as  large  as  I,"  said  Anna,  glancing  into  her  mother's 
face,  to  observe  the  effect  of  her  remark. 

"  Very  well,  Anna,  you  may  try  to-day,  but  first  I  want 


14:         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

you  should  go  to  the  grocery  where  you  bought  that  bread 
yesterday,  and  ask  the  grocer  if  he  will  let  you  have  a  loaf, 
and  tell  him  you  will  bring  the  sixpence  to  pay  for  it  by  and 
by  ;  for  I  must  go  out  and  see  if  I  can  get  some  money.  I 
have  that  locket  and  may  be  able  to  dispose  of  it :  I  must 
try,  if  you  do  not  succeed  in  selling  any  matches,  but  if  you 
can  get  trusted  for  a  loaf  until  to-morrow,  then  I  will  wait, 
for  I  would  prefer  to  keep  the  picture  of  my  own  dear 
mother  if  possible.  Will  you  go,  Anna  ?" 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  will  go,  but  I  am  afraid  he  will  not  let 
me  have  any  bread  without  money,"  she  xeplied  hesitatingly. 

"  You  can  try,  my  daughter,  you  have  never  asked  him  to 
trust  you,  and  he  surely  will  not  be  so  hard-hearted  as  to 
refuse  us  credit  for  one  day." 

Anna  immediately  left  the  room  and  had  been  gone  but  a 
very  few  minutes,  when  she  rushed  in  again.  Kunniug  to 
her  mother,  she  buried  her  face  in  her  lap,  and  burst  into  a 
violent  fit  of  weeping. 

"  My  dear  girl,  what  is  the  matter  ?  He  would  not  let 
you  have  any  bread,  would  he  ?  Well  never  mind,  darling, 
don't  cry  so.  We  have  the  locket  left  yet,  and  that  will 
bring  bread  for  to-day  at  least.  We  may  never  know  to- 
morrow. Cheer  up,  Anna,"  said  Mrs.  Hervey,  raising  the 
tearful  face  of  her  child,  and  imprinting  a  tender  kiss  upon 
her  forehead. 

"  Anna  come  here  to  me  and  tell  me  what  the  grocer  said 
to  you,"  said  Mr.  Hervey,  extending  his  hand  towards  her. 

Anna  went  to  her  father's  side,  and  then  answered. 


PAWNING    THE     LOCKET.  15 

"  He  was  so  cross  and  spoke  so  loud  that  he  frightened 
me,  and  I  hardly  know  what  he  did  say." 

"  Why,  my  dear  girl,  cannot  you  remember  anything  that 
passed  ?  What  did  you  say  when  you  went  in  ?" 

"  I  stood  by  the  counter  while  he  gave  a  man  some  tea  ; 
after  the  man  left,  he  turned  to  me  and  said,  '  I  suppose 
you  want  some  bread,  and  then  he  took  a  loaf  and  held  it 
towards  me,  and  I  said  I  have  not  got  any  money  this  morn- 
ing but  I  will  bring  it  this  afternoon,"  and  then  he  got 
angry,  and  swore,  and  said  he  couldn't  support  all  the  poor 
in  the  city  ;  that  he  had  to  pay  for  his  goods,  and  wasn't 
going  to  give  them  away  ;  and  there  was  something  too, 
about  cheating  and  stealing,  which  I  do  not  remember,  for  I 
was  so  frightened  I  could  not  tell  him  I  would  surely  bring 
the  money,  but  ran  away  as  fast  as  I  could." 

"  Cruel — cruel  man  to  deny  us,  starving  as  we  are,  one 
small  loaf  of  bread,"  groaned  Mr.  Hervey,  as  he  turned  his 
face  to  the  wall,  and  drew  the  scanty  covering  over  him  to 
hide  his  emotion. 

Mrs.  Hervey  approached,  saying,  "  Edward  do  not  let  this 
trouble  you,  I  will  go  now  and  sell  this  locket,"  looking  at 
one  she  held  in  her  hand. 

"  Mother,  mother,  let  me  go,"  interrupted  Anna,  eagerly, 
"I  know  where  there  is  a  pawnbroker's  shop.  I  saw  one 
yesterday,  right  round  the  corner  on  Chatham  Street." 

"How  do  you  know,  Anna,  that  it  is  a  pawnbroker's 
shop  ?" 

"  Why,  Mich  Lynch  told  me  so." 


16         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Pray  who  is  Mich  Lynch  ?" 

"  He  is  that  little  Irish  boy,  who  helps  me  bring  the  water 
up  stairs  ;  he  is  a  good  little  boy,  mother.  He  don't  go  with 
those  children  that  live  down  stairs,"  said  Anna,  hoping  by 
this  explanation  to  secure  her  mother's  approbation  of  the 
acquaintance.  For  Mrs.  Hervey  had  endeavored  as  much  as 
possible  to  prevent  Anna's  associating  with  the  vile  children 
that  thronged  the  neighborhood  to  which  their  poverty  had 
condemned  them. 

"  Very  well!  Anna;  he  is  at  least  kind  to  assist  you;  but 
the  next  tune  he  comes  up  with  you,  bring  him  in,  so  that 
I  may  see  him,  and  judge  for  myself.  But  how  do  you 
know  that  it  is  a  pawnbroker's  shop  ?" 

"  Mich  said  it  was.  He  went  there  and  took  a  shawl  of 
his  mother's,  and  got  ever  so  much  money  for  it.  I  did  not 
go  in,  for  I  was  afraid  to,  but  I  stood  on  the  steps  outside 
the  door  ;  and  I  saw  the  three  balls  over  the  door.  That 
is  the  sign,  Mich  said." 

Mrs.  Hervey  did  not  answer  for  a  few  moments.  Her  mind 
was  occupied  with  bitter  thoughts,  and  she  sighed  deeply 
to  think  that  her  child  should  thus  early  learn  so  much  of 
life's  misery  and  sorrow  ;  but  she  was  aroused  by  her  hus- 
band remarking  : 

"  Mary,  let  Anna  go — don't  you  leave  me — she  can  get  the 
little  Irish  boy  to  go  with  her,  if  she  is  afraid  to  go  alone  ; 
for  I  must  have  something  to  eat.  Go,  Anna  !  and  hurry 
back,  but  don't  let  the  man  frighten  you.  He  will  not  dare 
to  hurt  you." 


PAWNING     THE     LOCKET.  17 

Anna  took  the  locket  from  her  mother's  hand  and  went 
slowly  down  the  stairs  and  into  the  crowded  street.  She 
stood  for  a  moment  looking  about,  to  see  if  she  could  get  a 
glimpse  of  her  Irish  friend,  but  not  seeing  him  she  walked 
along  for  several  blocks  towards  the  pawnbroker's  shop. 
Suddenly  she  stopped  ;  the  repulse  of  the  morning  returned 
vividly  to  her  mind,  and  she  could  not  approach  a  step 
nearer  to  the  dreadful  place.  Turning  back,  she  ran  with 
her  utmost  speed,  and  without  stopping  or  turning,  until 
she  reached  the  alley  in  which  her  friend  Mich  lived,  and 
there  she  stopped  to  compose  herself ;  and  then,  mastering 
courage,  inquired  of  a  rough-looking  woman  near, 

"Mich  Lynch!  does  he  live  here  ?" 

"  Indade  I  an'  what  if  he  does,  ye  little  spalpeen  ?  D'ye 
think  so  dacent  a  boy  as  Mich  would  be  afther  wasting  his 
tune  in  playin'  wid  sich  a  sickly-lookin'  crathur  as  ye  are  ?" 

"  I  don't  want  to  play,"  said  Anna,  trembling  with  fear  at 
the  rough  voice  and  manner  of  the  woman. 

"  Ye  naden't  look  so  frightened  ;  I'm  not  going  to  ate 
ye.  Go  along  in  there  wid  ye,  if  it's  Mich  ye  are  wanting. 
He's  asy  enough  to  find  widout  looking  in  the  Directhory," 
said  the  woman,  at  the  same  time  pointing  to  the  narrow 
entrance. 

Anna  followed  the  direction,  and  tapping  gently  at  the 
door,  a  pleasant  voice  bade  her  "  come  in."  She  opened 
the  door,  and  there,  sitting  upon  what  was  intended  for  a 
bed,  was  a  young  and  rather  delicate-looking  female,  en- 
deavoring to  hush  a  sickly  and  emaciated  infant,  which  she 


18         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

held  in  her  arms,  by  rocking  herself  to  and  fro.  Not  an 
article  of  furniture  was  in  the  room.  A  large,  iron-bound 
deal  box,  or  chest,  stood  in  a  corner,  which,  together  with 
the  bed  on  which  she  sat,  were  the  only  objects  that  met 
Anna's  eyes,  as  she  gazed  around  in  search  of  Mich. 

The  woman  noticed  her  inquiring  look,  and  asked  : 

"  Was  it  Mich  you  were  looking  after  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am  ;  I  was  told  that  Mich,  lived  here,  and  I 
want  to  see  him  a  minute." 

"  Well,  sit  down  on  the  chest,  and  wait  a  bit.  He  will 
be  here  directly.  What  might  ye  be  after  wanting  of 
Mich  ?  Are  ye  the  little  girl  that  lives  in  the  next  street  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am.  I  live  upstairs  in  the  big  house.  My 
father  is  very  sick,  and  my  mother  gave  me  this  to  go  and 
get  some  money.  I  was  afraid  to  go  alone,  and  have  come 
to  see  if  Mich  would  go  with  me." 

The  woman  said  no  more,  but  gave  her  whole  attention 
to  the  child  in  her  arms.  Anna  quietly  awaited  the  arrival 
of  Mich.  She  did  not  wait  long,  however,  for  soon  he  came 
running  into  the  room,  all  out  of  breath,  and  going  to  his 
mother,  laid  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  piece  of  cheese  hi  her 
lap,  saying  : 

"  There's  the  nice  breakfast  for  ye.  Now  jist  give  Jouny 
a  piece  of  that  beautiful  bread  and  he'll  whist — won't  you, 
Jonny,  darlint  ?"  then  turning,  he  spied  Anna,  and  said, 

"  Anna  Hervey  I  and  why  did  you  come  here  ?  Did  you 
want  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mich  ;  I  came  to  see  if  you  would  go  with  me  to 


PAWNING     THE     LOCKET.  1.9 

the  store  where  you  took  your  mother's  shawl,"  said  Anna, 
going  to  him  and  speaking  softly. 

An'  sure  I  will ;  but  what  have  ye  got  to  sell  ?" 

"  This  locket." 

"  Sure,  it's  a  beautiful  one.     Is  it  gould  1" 

"  Yes,  pure  gold,  mother  says.  The  man  ought  to  give 
me  a  good  deal  of  money  for  it  ;  it  cost  a  great  deal  ;  and 
besides,  it's  the  picture  of  my  grandmother." 

"Och!  it's  not  that  he'll  care  for,  but  it's  the  gould  that'll 
warm  his  heart  towards  ye." 

' '  Can  you  go  with  me  now,  Mich  ?  I  must  hurry,"  said 
Anna  ;  and  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  Jonny,  who  sat  greedily 
devouring  his  bread. 

Mich  glanced  up  from  the  glittering  ornament  in  his  hand, 
and  observing  the  direction  of  Anna's  eyes,  read  at  once 
their  meaning  ;  and,  with  a  delicacy  prompted  by  the  kind- 
ness of  his  heart,  went  and  broke  off  a  large  piece  of  the 
loaf  he  had  given  his  mother,  and  put  it  into  Anna's  hand, 
saying  : 

"  Niver  doubt  the  honest  gintleman  '11  keep  us  waiting 
long  enough;  he'll  niver  hurry  himself  till  he  sees  the  glitter 
of  gould,  and  ye'll  sure  be  hungry,  so  ate  this  bit  as  fast  as 
iver  ye  can."  •  * 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  he  turned  to  his  mother,  and 
said  : 

"  I'll  be  back  by  the  time  ye  and  Jonny  have  finished  the 
nice  bread,"  and  started,  taking  Anna  by  the  hand,  but 
before  he  could  leave  the  room,  his  mother  called  him  saying: 


20         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Mich  my  boy,  are  ye  goin'  widout  atin'  a  bit  ?  Sure 
ye'll  be  starvin'  if  you  stay  out  long." 

"  No  ;  not  a  whit,  not  a  crumb,  ye'll  ate  it  all  yourself. 
I'll  not  starve  at  all.  Indade,  and  I  couldn't  ate  if  I  should 
thry.  Come,  Anna." 

And  Mich  hurried  Anna  out  of  the  room,  and  along  the 
filthy  stairway  till  they  entered  the  street  ;  then  they  went 
more  slowly,  for  neither  was  anxious  to  enter  the  pawnbro- 
ker's shop.  But  finally  the  dreaded  place  was  reached,  and 
there,  upon  the  steps  they  stopped  to  consult.  Mich  was  the 
first  to  speak. 

"Anna,  how  much  money  are  ye  hopin'  to  get  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  but  as  much  as  I  can,  for  we  are  so  hun- 
gry, and  I  must  hurry.  Oh  1  Mich  won't  you  ask  ?  Well, 
let's  go  in,  now,"  said  Anna,  trembling  with  fear. 

"  Och  !  don't  ye  be  trembling  so,  I'll  take  care  of  ye. 
Come  along  wid  me  an'  I'll  do  the  spakin',  and  ye  needn't 
open  yer  head  at  all." 

Cautiously  they  opened  the  door,  which  had  but  a  single 
blind  taken  down,  and  entered  the  gloomy  shop.  They  stood 
for  a  moment  looking  about  them.  Mich  to  listen  for  the 
approach  of  the  old  man  ;  Anna,  to  examine  the  singular 
arrangement  of  the  place.  She  had  never  seen  the  like 
before,  and  it  had  all  the  charm  of  novelty  to  her  childish 
eye.  On  one  side  of  the  narrow  shop,  were  rows  of  shelves, 
filled  with  packages  done  up  in  brown  paper,  and  labelled 
and  numbered.  On  a  table  near  was  a  strange  medley. 
Old  bonnets,  shawls,  coats,  cloaks,  lamps,  knives,  books, 


PAWNING     THE     LOCKET.  21 

medical  and  musical  instruments,  all  old  and  apparently 
valueless.  In  a  glass  case,  arranged  for  display,  were  watches, 
chains,  and  every  kind  of  ornament  of  ancient  and  modern 
style,  in  fact  everything  that  could  be  possibly  desired  either 
for  use  or  other  purpose,  all  of  which  had  either  been  pur- 
chased by  the  pawnbroker,  or  been  forfeited  by  the  former 
owner.  Alas  !  what  a  tale  they  told  of  poverty  and  desti- 
tution, of  altered  fortunes,  of  crime,  or  of  reckless  extrava- 
gance. On  the  other  side  were  little  stalls  where  Want 
could  enter,  and  hide  its  shame  from  its  neighbor's  gaze — 
and  from  the  world. 

As  Anna  advanced  and  looked  into  one  of  the  small 
apartments,  wondering  what  they  were  for,  she  saw  a 
counter  behind,  and  also  another .  row  of  shelves  like  those 
on  the  opposite  side,  all  bearing  their  dusty  burdens,  and  all 
in  like  manner  labelled  and  numbered — the  accumulation  of 
years.  She  had  barely  made  these  observations,  when  she 
was  startled  by  a  hoarse,  gruff  voice,  issuing  from  the  inner 
recess  of  the  gloomy  den. 

"  What  now  ?  what  are  you  after  ?  Can't  a  poor  man 
eat  his  meal  in  peace,  without  being  plagued  with  Pharaoh's 
plagues.  Come  !  speak,  what  have  you  stolen  already  ?" 

The  children  turned  instantly,  and  there  confronting  them 
stood  Old  Haun,  as  he  was  usually  called.  No  wonder  that 
one  so  timid  as  Anna  should  tremble  and  turn  pale  at  the 
sight  of  him.  For  nature  would  seem  to  have  exhausted  her 
energies  and  skill,  in  fashioning  him  as  a  model  of  ugli- 
ness. 


22        OLD     HATJN,     THE     PAWNBROKER.- 

He  was  tall  and  lank,  with  an  ungainly  stoop.  His 
limbs  were  of  an  unnatural  length,  while  his  cadaverous  face 
was  rendered  still  more  ghastly  by  contrast  with  the  black 
and  wiry  locks  which  were  thrown  back  from  his  forhead, 
and  hung  down  to  his  shoulders.  A  chronic  rheumatic  affec- 
tion had  partially  deprived  him  of  the  use  of  his  left  arm, 
and  drawn  it  up  into  an  acute  angle,  while  the  bony  fingers 
resembled  the  talons  of  a  bird  of  prey  ready  to  seize  its 
quarry. 

He  entered,  masticating  a  portion  of  his  breakfast,  in  the 
enjoyment  of  which  frugal  meal  he  had  been  interrupted, 
being  from  economical  considerations  his  own  cook  and 
housekeeper.  Approaching  closely  to  Anna,  he  bent  down, 
peered  with  his  glittering,  snake-like  eyes,  into  her  own, 
waiting  for  an  answer. 

"  We  came  to  sell  or  pawn  this  locket,  sir,  and  not  to 
stale,  I'd  have  ye  to  know,  sir,"  said  Mich,  taking  upon 
himself  the  office  of  spokesman. 

The  old  man  paid  no  regard  to  his  words,  for  his  keen 
eyes  had  caught  the  glitter  of  gold,  and  quickly  extending 
his  hand  for  the  article,  said,  in  what  he  intended  for  a  very 
careless  and  indifferent  tone: 

"  This  trinket  ?  pshaw,  it's  not  worth  the  time  of  talking 
about.  Is  this  all  you've  got  ?" 

"  Indade  !  its  not  mine  at  all,  but " 

"  Not  yours  !  and  you  expect  an  honest  man  like  me  to 
buy  stolen  goods  !  You  young  rascal  !" 

"  If  you  wouldn't  jist  be  takin'  the  words  out  of  me 


PAWNING     THE     LCCKEf.  23 

mouth,  I'd  be  afther  tellin'  ye.  It's  not  mine,  but  Anna's 
here  ;  and  I'm  no  rascal  either,  I'd  have  ye  to  know.  So  ye 
needn't  judge  a  dacint  boy  like  me  by  yourself,  I  tell  yez." 

"  Well  !  who  are  you  then  ?"  said  Haun,  laying  his  bony 
hand  on  Anna's  shoulder,  who  shrunk  from  him  and  tried  to 
get  behind  Mich,  saying,  in  a  whisper: 

"  I'm  Anna  Hervey." 

"  You  are  ?  Well !  then,  where  did  you  get  this  ?  and 
mind,  no  lying." 

"  It's  her  mother's,  and  she  wants  you  to  give  her  some 
money  for  it,"  interrupted  Mich. 

"  You's  better  hold  your  tongue,  if  you  expect  to  get  away 
with  a  whole  head,"  said  the  pawnbroker  ;  and  then  turning 
to  Anna,  he  added, 

"  You  don't  expect  to  get  much  money  for  this  trifle,  do 
you  ?  It  won't  sell." 

"  In  faith,  she  don't  want  you  to  sell  it,  but  jist  to  give 
her  a  ticket  for  it,"  again  interrupted  Mich. 

"  My  young  friend,"  said  Haun,  turning  to  Mich,  with 
assumed  calmness,  "  My  young  friend,  do  you  see  that 
door  ?" 

"  Is  it  the  door  ye  mane  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  do  you  see  that  door  ?" 

"  Sure  an'  how  could  a  body  with  eyes  in  his  head  help 
seein'  it  ?" 

"  Now,  if  you  don't  stop  interrupting  me.  I'll  pitch  you 
out  of  that  door  into  the  street." 

"  Plase  to  spare  yourself  the  trouble,  sir,  I'm  not  too 


24         OLD      II  A  U  N  ,      THE      PAWNBROKER. 

proud  yet  to  walk,"  said  Mich,  springing  backward,  as  Haun 
made  a  sudden  move  towards  him. 

The  apparent  danger  of  her  friend  roused  Anna's  courage, 
and  she  stepped  quickly  between  them,  and  laying  her  hand 
upon  Haun's  arm,  exclaimed: 

"  Don't  !  don't  hurt  Mich  ;  he  will  be  still  now  ;  I  know 
he  will ;"  and  this  was  accompanied  with  a  pleading  look 
towards  Mich,  which  he  understood  and  answered. 

"  Not  a  word  will  I  be  spakin',  then  at  all,  if  that's  what 
ye  wish,"  said  Mich ;  and  turning  away,  commenced  whistling 
abstractedly. 

"  Will  you  stop  that  infernal  noise  ?" 

"  Och  !  in  faith  ye're  hard  to  plase  Niver  a  word  am  I 
spakin'  at  all." 

"  Mich  !  do  be  quiet,"  whispered  Anna,  and  then  address- 
ing Haun,  said, 

"  Won't  you  give  me  some  money  for  that  now  ?  My 
father  is  sick  and  hungry,  and  I  want  to  buy  some  bread." 

"  Oh  yes  !  the  same  old  story — father  sick  and  mother 
dead — of  course.  Do  I  look  like  a  bird  to  be  caught 
by  chaff,  eh,  my  little  dear  ?"  and  he  chucked  her  under  the 
chin. 

"  Not  the  laste  bit  in  the  world  like  a  bird,  barrin'  the 
swate  voice  that  ye  have,"  said  Mich,  softly.  But  Haun 
did  not  hear  nor  understand  him. 

Anna  shuddered  with  disgust  at  the  contact  with  Hauu's 
Land,  and  involuntarily  stepped  back. 

"  Afraid,  are  you  ?"  said  Haun,  and  he  approached  her, 


PAWNING     THE     LOCKET.  25 

delighting  in  the  terror  she  exhibited,  and  was  about  to 
take  hold  of  her  when  Mich  stepped  up,  and  said  in  a  very 
determined  voice: 

"  Come,  Anna,  we'll  be  goin';"  and  then  turning  to  Haun, 
continued,  "  If  ye're  goin'  to  give  us  the  money  for  the  por 
trait,  be  -afther  doin'  it  ;  if  not,  we'll  jist  lave  yer  ilegant 
store  at  onct,  won't  we,  Anna  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mich,  let's  go  now,"  whispered  she. 

"  Not  too  fast ;  I've  got  it  safely  in  my  hand  yet,  do  you 
see  ?"  said  Haun,  chuckling. 

Mich  looked  perplexed,  but  finally  said,  very  earnestly, 

"  How  much  money  will  ye  give  her,  thin  ?" 

"  Not  much,  anyway  ;  I  must  see  whether  it's  the  real 
stuff ;"  saying  which,  he  entered  the  gloomy  recess,  in  the 
back  part  of  the  shop,  from  which  he  had  first  made  his 
ingress,  and  disappeared. 

The  children  stood  impatiently  awaiting  his  return.  Mich 
began  to  feel  urgently  the  need  of  some  breakfast,  and  was 
anxious  to  leave. 

Anna  whispered  to  him  as  they  stood  waiting.  "  Oh  ! 
Mich,  aint  you  afraid  of  him  ?  I  wish  I  was  home.  Don't 
you  ?" 

"  Sorry  a  bit  am  I  afraid  of  the  likes  of  him  on  me  own 
account,  but  if  we'd  only  the  money  from  him,  we'd  not  stay 
here  sure." 

"  Hallo,  there  you  rascal,  what  are  you  whispering  about  ? 
I'm  suspicious  of  you,  contriving  to  rob  me,  I  know.  I'll 
warrant  you've  fobbed  something  already.  Get  out  of  my 

2 


26          OLD     ITA.TJN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

shop  ;  get  out,  I  say,  or  I'll  call  the  police,"  said  Haun,  un- 
expectedly entering. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  till  ye  give  up  the  locket,  and  ye'd  better 
call  the  police  too." 

Haun  was  surprised  and  abashed  at  the  nerve  and  resolu- 
tion of  Mich.  The  thought  had  occurred  to  him  as  he  was 
testing  the  gold,  and  examining  the  locket,  that,  perhaps,  it 
might  have  been  stolen,  or  have  been  otherwise  dishonestly 
obtained,  and  when  he  found  it  to  be  of  far  greater  value 
than  he  had  at  first  supposed,  it  had  occurred  to  him  that  it 
would  be  a  profitable  investment,  and  a  very  fair  morning's 
work,  to  obtain  the  article  for  nothing,  and  knowing  that 
guilt  is  always  timid,  he  intended  to  frighten  the  children 
into  consulting  their  own  safety  and  leaving  the  locket.  He 
had  been  eyeing  them  sometime  through  a  private  aperture, 
and  then  attempted  to  put  his  plan  into  operation,  but  he 
was  disappointed,  and  therefore  quickly  added, 
X  "  The  locket !  ah,  yes.  But  you  said  your  father  was  very 
sick,  didn't  you  ?  Poor  man  !  Has  he  been  sick  long  ?" 

"  Ah,  yes,  a  long  time." 

"  And  in  great  want,  no  doubt  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  we  have  nothing  to  eat." 

"  And  living  so  near  and  never  let  me  know  anything  of 
it,"  said  Haun  warmly,  and  with  assumed  indignation. 
"  Couldn't  I  see  the  poor  man  ?" 

"Oh  1  yes,  will  you  come  and  visit  him  ?"  answered  Anna, 
overcome  by  the  appearance  of  genuine  sympathy  manifested. 

"  In  what  street  do  you  live  ?" 


PAWNING     THE     LOCKET.  27 

Anna  mentioned  the  street  and  number. 

"  On  the  first  floor  ?" 

"  No  ;  it's  a  long  way  up  to  our  room." 

He  had  put  his  inquiries  in  order  to  learn  the  circumstances 
in  which  the  persons  applying  for  assistance  were  placed,  and 
how  great  was  their  actual  need,  before  making  an  offer,  as 
he  made  it  a  rule  to  graduate  his  loans  according  to  the 
necessities  of  the  customer,  in  an  inverse  ratio — the  greater 
the  poverty,  the  less  was  the  sum  offered  by  him.  After 
hesitating  a  moment, 

"  I  don't  want  this  trinket  ;  I  could  never  sell  it;  it  is 
of  no  value  ;  but  I'll  give  you  a  trifle  for  it,  as  you  need 
money,"  said  Haun  in  a  snuffling  tone  of  voice,  as  he  handed 
her  a  half  dollar.  Anna  stepped  forward,  and  was  about  to 
grasp  the  money,  but  was  stopped  by  Mich,  who  had  listen- 
ed with  feelings  of  gratitude  to  the  charitable  remarks  of  the 
pawnbroker,  and  who,  although  he  could  not  forget  some 
little  idiosyncrasies  that  characterized  him  in  his  dealings 
when  he  had  pawned  his  mother's  shawls,  still  was  willing  to 
believe  that,  like  the  fox  in  the  fable,  Haun  had  repented  of 
his  evil  ways,  and  was  anxious  to  begin  the  expiation  of  liis 
sins,  by  good  deeds  ;  therefore  Mich  was  prepared  to  listen 
to  some  liberal  offer  from  the  pawnbroker's  lips,  but  when 
he  heard  the  conclusion,  his  anger  would  not  be  restrained. 

"  Don't  ye  touch  it,  Anna,"  he  exclaimed  loudly.  "  Its 
chatin'  ye  he  is.  The  divil's  own  father.  Bad  luck  to  the 
day  ye  were  born,  an'  to  the  mother  that  bore  ye,"  he  shouted, 
turning  to  Haun,  and  shaking  his  fist.  "  To  chate  the  poor 


28         OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

friendless  ckilder.  Ye'd  stale  the  bread  from  the  mouths  of 
the  widdy  and  the  orphans.  The  gould  on  the  porthrait  is 
worth  every  cint  of  five  dollars,  an7  ye  know  it.  Anna, 
don't  ye  take  a  cint  less.  This  is  the  way  ye  are  after  help- 
in'  the  poor,  by  chatin'  them.  God  be  betune  them  and  ye 
foriver,  ye,  ye ." 

He  would  have  continued,  but  Hauu  now  thoroughly 
aroused,  strode  forward  and  grasping  him  around  the  neck, 
with  his  long  talon-like  fingers,  shook  him  violently,  hissing 
through  his  closed  teeth  : 

"D imp  ;  I'll  stop  your  noise  for  you  now?  Med- 
dle with  my  business,  will  you  ?"  .  He  continued  shaking  him 
as  his  face  became  livid  with  passion. 

Anna  uttered  a  piercing  shriek,  and  rushed  toward  the 
door,  with  the  intention  of  calling  assistance.  Haun  divined 
her  object  instantaneously,  and  letting  Mich  drop  from  his 
grasp,  gave  him  a  push  towards  the  door,  exclaiming  with 
an  oath,  "  now  leave  if  you  know  when  you  are  well  off," 
and  turning  to  Anna,  shouted, 

"  Here,  girl — wait  I  say." 

Anna  involuntarily  hesitated. 

"  Here's  your  money  !  a  five  dollar  note — it's  yours  for  the 
picture.  Now,  who's  trying  to  cheat  ?  I'd  like  to  know," 
said  he,  turning  again  to  Mich. 

Mich  said  nothing  more.  Anna  having  received  the 
money,  the  two  walked  quickly  away. 

"  Did  he  hurt  you,  much  ?"  asked  Anna,  as  soon  as  they 
were  a  short  distance  from  the  pawnbroker's  shop. 


PAWNING     THE     LOCKET.  29 

"  No,  not  much,"  answered  Mich,  "  but  if  I  were  only  a 
man  grown  insti'd  of  bein'  a  boy  as  I  am,  wouldn't  I  lay  me 
beautiful  switch  of  a  shillalah  over  his  head  ?  troth  an'  I 
would  jist." 

\They  hurried  on  until  they  reached  the  stairway  leading 
to  Anna's  home,  and  without  stopping  to  take  breath,  up, 
up,  up  their  weary  way  they  clambered,  till  they  reached  the 
door  of  the  attic  room.  There  Mich  would  have  let  go  of 
Anna's  hand,  but  she  would  not  permit  it,  and  opening  the 
door,  dragged,  rather  than  led  him  into  the  room,  exclaim- 
ing— 

"  Here,  mamma,  see  what  I  have  got,  see  ! — five  whole 
dollars.  Won't  we  have  enough  to  eat  now  ?"  and  she  laid 
the  money  in  her  mother's  lap. 

"  Is  this  all  you  obtained  for  the  locket  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Hervey,  in  a  tone  of  surprise. 

"  Why,  mother,  is  not  that  a  great  deal  of  money  ?" 

"  Yes,  Anna,  a  fortune  to  us  now,  but  not  one  quarter  of 
its  value.  This  is  your  friend  I  presume." 

"  Yes,  mother,  this  is  Mich.  ;  if  he  had  not  been  with  me 
I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done,  for  I  was  afraid  of 
the  old  pawnbroker,"  said  Anna,  endeavoring  to  draw  Mich 
towards  her  mother. 

"  Come  here,  my  boy,  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for 
your  kindness  to  Anna,"  said  Mrs.  Hervey,  extending  her 
hand  to  him,  but  Mich's  eyes  were  bent  on  the  ragged  cap 
he  was  twirling  in  his  hand,  and  he  made  no  response. 

"  Anna,"  said  Mr.  Hervey,  in  a  cheerful  voice,  "  cannot 


30         OLD     H  A  TJ  N  ,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

your  friend  Mich  go  with  you  to  get  us  something  to 
eat  !  Bring  him  back  with  yoa"  he  added,  in  a  lower 
tone. 

'  Mich,  you'll  go  with  me,  won't  you  ? — we'll  get  some 
bread,  and  some  tea  and  sugar,  and  some  wood  to  make  a 
fire,  and  lots  of  nice  things,  won't  we  !"  said  Anna,  as  she 
took  hold  of  Mich's  hand,  and  started  for  the  door,  but  her 
mother  called  h.er  back,  saying — 

"Anna,  wait  one  moment — come  here.  Remember  we 
must  not  spend  all  of  this  money  to-day,  for  when  that  is 
gone  we  shall  have  nothing.  Get  a  loaf  of  broad,  and  a 
little  tea  and  sugar  for  your  father,  and  bring  the  rest  of  the 
money  back  to  me." 

"  Mother,  what  shall  we  make  the  tea  with  I  we  have  not 
a  bit  of  wood." 

"  Whist !  Anna,  not  a  word  about  the  wood,  it's  meself 
that  knows  where  there's  hapes  of  it  for  the  mere  askin'." 

"  Do  you,  Mich — oh  where  ?" 

"  I'll  show  ye,  come  wid  me." 

They  both  left  the  room  and  descended  the  stairs  as 
quickly  as  possible.  They  sought  a  different  grocery  from 
the  one  where  Anna  had  been  so  ill-treated  in  the  morning. 
Here  they  purchased  the  articles  desired,  and  offered  the  bill 
in  payment.  The  grocer  looked  at  it  for  a  moment,  and 
then  eyeing  the  children  suspiciously,  pushed  the  bill  towards 
them,  and  said — 

"  I  can't  take  that — where  did  you  get  it  ?" 

"  Of  old  Haun  the  pawnbroker,  a'nt  it  a  good  bill,  sir  ?" 


PAWNING     THE     LOCKET.  31 

"  No — it  is  not  a  good  bill." 

"  Oh,  Mich  what  shall  I  do  ?"  almost  cried  Anna. 

"  Wait  a  bit  darlint — don't  ye  cry  jist  yet,"  said  he,  and 
then  turning  to  the  grocer,  asked  in  a  louder  tone. 
"  What's  ailin'  wid  the  money  ?" 

"  Well,  boy,  the  bank  is  closed,  and  the  money  is  not 
current,  that's  what's  ailin'  wid  the  money,"  answered  the 
grocer,  with  a  grimace  and  humorously  imitating  Mich's 
manner  of  speaking.  "  However,  I  reckon  you'll  not  better 
yourselves  by  taking  it  back  to  the  old  rascal — so  I  will 
allow  you  its  full  value." 

"  And  how  much  can  ye  give  us  for  the  bill  ?"  inquired 
Mich. 

"  Just  fifty  cents  on  the  dollar,  that  makes  two  dollars 
and  a  half.  The  things  you  have  bought  come  to  a  half  a 
dollar  and  there  are  two  dollars  to  make  up  the  balance." 

The  children  took  the  money  and  their  parcel  and  started 
for  home.  Upon  reaching  the  foot  of  the  stairs  Mich  stop- 
ped and  said, 

"  I  must  leave  ye  now,  Anna.  Me  mither'll  be  waitin'  for 
me  to  mind  Jonny  a  bit." 

"  But  you  know  papa  wanted  you  to  come  back,  so  that 
he  could  speak  to  you." 

"Blessin's  on  your  purty  head  an'  so  he  did  sure,  well  1 
I'll  go." 

They  climbed  up  the  stairs  and  deposited  their  bundle, 
and  related  the  new  misfortune  that  had  befallen  them  at 
the  grocery  in  the  loss  of  the  part  of  their  money.  And 


32         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER 

Mich  finding  Mr.  Hervey  in  a  quiet  slumber  prepared  to 
leavi,  but  was  detained  by  hearing  Mrs.  Hervey  say  to 
Anna. 

"  You  will  have  to  go  and  buy  some  matches,  there  is 
not  one  left." 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  then  mother  after  we  have  had  some  break- 
fast I  can  go  and  sell  matches.  Mich,  will  you  go  with 
me?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  an'  if  ye're  willin  I'll  go  now  an'  get  ye'r( 
matches  for  ye.  For  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  ye  were  tired  J 
wee  bit." 

"  If  you  will,  Mich,  take  this  shilling  and  go  to  the  ston 
where  they  make  matches  just  below  and  buy  some,"  saia 
Mrs.  Hervey  in  a  friendly  manner. 

Mich  took  the  money  and  hastened  off,  and  Anna  com 
menced  eating  a  portion  of  the  bread  which  they  had 
purchased,  with  an  appetite  whetted  by  her  long  fast. 

Mich  soon  returned  with  what  seemed  to  them  an  inex- 
haustible quantity  of  matches,  which  were  to  constitute 
their  future  stock  in  trade.  Mrs.  Hervey  cut  off  a  generous 
slice  of  the  bread  and  handed  it  to  Anna,  telling  her  Mich 
must  be  tired  after  going  up  and  down  stairs  so  often. 
Mich  would  have  refused,  but  Anna  forced  it  into  his  hand 
and  was  delighted  to  see  him,  notwithstanding  his  diffidence, 
eat  it  so  heartily. 

"  I'll  go  now  and  see  me  mother,  and  thin  if  she  can  spare 
me  from  mindin'  Jonny  I'll  be  back  again  at  onct,  and  we'll 
go  and  sell  the  matches." 


PAWNING     THE     LOCKET.  33 

"  Very  well,  Mich,  come  back  as  soon  as  your  mother 
can  spare  you,"  said  Mrs.  Hervey. 

And  then  the  sick  husband  and  father  sipped  the  nourish- 
ing draught  that  had  been  prepared  for  him,  and  ate  a  few 
morsels  of  bread — while  a  cheerful  look  flitted  over  his  wan 
face  and  animated  his  features.  Then  departing  Hope  came 
back  to  rest  in  the  bosom  of  the  sorrowing  wife.  She 
smoothed  his  coarse  bed  and  laid  him  gently  down,  still 
basking  in  the  gleam  of  sunshine  which  momentarily  dissi- 
pated the  shadows  of  despair. 


2* 


OLD     H  A  U  N       THE     PAWNBROKER. 


CHAPTER    IL 

CORNELL   AND    OLD    HAUN. 

AFTER  his  interview  with  Mich  and  Anna,  Harm  retreated 
to  the  remotest  corner  of  his  den,  to  examine  and  gloat  over 
his  prize.  To  be  able  to  impose  upon  those  whose  pov- 
erty obliged  them  to  apply  to  him  for  aid,  was  the  source 
of  his  purest  enjoyment.  He  was  happy,  both  in  having 
defrauded  others,  and  in  having  added  to  his  own  gains. 

The  noise  of  some  one  entering  aroused  him  from  his 
pleasant  revery,  and  he  thrust  the  locket  into  a  private 
drawer,  and  crept  stealthily  along  to  the  aperture  already 
spoken  of,  to  obtain,  if  possible,  through  his  "  loophole  of 
retreat,"  a  glimse  of  his  customer,  without  exposing  himself 
to  observation.  He  had  hardly  taken  his  position  when  he 
heard  a  voice  calling  : 

"  Hallo  there,  old  covey  !  where  are  you  burrowing  ? 
come  out  of  your  hole" — at  the  same  time  the  owner  of  the 
voice  entered  one  of  the  stalls,  and  bent  over  the  counter, 
extending  his  neck,  and  trying  to  peer  into  the  gloom 
beyond. 


CORNELL     AND     OLD     HAUN.  35 

"  Well,  sir  !  what  would  you  have  me  to  do  for  you  this 
morning  ?"  said  Haun,  advancing,  and  not  thinking  proper 
to  take  any  notice  of  the  roughness  of  the  salutation,  as  he 
eyed  his  customer  closely. 

"  I  want  to  raise  fifty  dollars  on  that  watch,"  said  the 
man,  as  he  placed  upon  the  counter  a  valuable  gold-cased 
lever,  and  looking  at  the  same  time  into  the  pawnbroker's 
face  for  an  answer. 

"  Money  is  very  close  at  present,"  said  Haun,  shaking  his 
head  dubiously. 

"  If  it's  half  as  close  as  you  are,  it  must  be  hard  to 
get." 

"  We  have  to  be  very  cautious  in  our  operations." 

"  Well  now,  look  you — I've  no  time  to  lose — nor  disposi- 
tion to  dally.  Here's  a  plain  proposition  :  I  am  in  want  of 
fifty  dollars;  you  have  it  to  lend ;  there's  my  watch  as  secu- 
rity ;  are  you  satisfied,  and  shall  I  have  the  money  ?  Yea, 
or  no  ?" 

"  I  fancy  you'll  have  to  turn  in  something  more  than  that, 
if  you  get  fifty  dollars  of  me,"  said  Haun,  glancing  at  the 
watch,  but  not  offering  to  touch  it. 

"  Something  more!  where  are  your  eyes  ?  D it,  man, 

look  at  the  thing.  It  cost  me  just  two  hundred  dollars  not 
six  months  since,"  said  the  man,  at  the  same  time  taking 
the  watch  from  the  counter  and  thrusting  it  towards  Haun, 
who  leisurely  took  it  up.  He  opened  it,  and  looked  at  it 
carelessly,  turning  it  about  and  placing  it  to  his  ear  without 
speaking. 


36         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Well,  I  might,  perhaps,  let  you  have  the  amount, 
deducting  the  interest,"  said  Haun,  after  deliberating  a 
moment. 

"  Fork  it  over  then,  and  don't  play  shy  any  longer.  You 
pretend  to  be  very  indifferent  about  taking  my  offer,  but  you 
don't  deceive  me.  I  know  the  tricks  of  gentlemen  of  your 
profession  too  well.  That  watch  has  been  up  the  spout 
before,  and  for  a  cool  hundred  and  fifty  too.  So  you  keep 
a  close  hand  upon  it,  old  fellow,  till  I  come  again.  I  want 
the  money  for  one  month  only.  What  interest  do  you 
take  ?" 

"  Twent-five  per  cent,"  answered  Haun. 

"  Twenty-five  per  cent.  !  well,  that  is  moderate.  Did 
you  attend  the  funeral  when  your  conscience  was  buried  ?" 

"  You  can  take  it ;  or,  if  you  don't  like  my  terms,  let  it 
alone,  just  as  you  please.  But  not  a  dollar  shall  you  get 
from  me  at  a  less  rate,"  said  Haun,  turning  to  leave  the 
counter. 

"  Well  !  well  !  hand  it  along  ;  the  money  I  must  have — 
and  what'll  be  the  difference  a  century  hence  ?" 

Haun  disappeared  for  a  moment,  and  then  returning,  laid 
the  money  down  on  the  counter  with  one  hand,  while  with 
the  other  he  took  up  the  watch,  saying,  "  What  did  you 
say  your  name  was  ?  I've  forgotten  ;  I  want  to  put  it  in 
my  book." 

"  Well,  put  it  in  your  book  then,  it's  an  honest  name,  and 
one  its  owner  is  not  ashamed  of.  My  name  is  Cornell — 
James  Cornell." 


CORNELL     AND     OLD     HAUN.  37 

"Now,  give  me  the  ticket  and  be  lively  about  it,  my 
agreeable  acquaintance,  for  I  must  be  moving,"  continued  he, 
taking  up  the  money. 

"  Yes  sir  !  there  it  is,  No.  3,051  ;  mind  you  don't  lose  it." 

"  Why  not  ?" 

"  Because  without  it  I  might  not  be  able  to  identify  you  as 
the  owner  of  the  watch." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  troubled  with  a  bad  memory.  Some 
people  are,  at  times,  but  you  had  better  not  fail  to  have  that 
little  ornament  forthcoming  when  I  call  for  it,  or  times  '11  be 
a  great  deal  closer  with  you  than  they  are  now,"  added  Cor- 
nell as  he  turned  and  left  the  shop.  When  he  reached  the 
street,  he  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  then  drawing  a  long 
breath,  muttered,  "  Well  there's  the  watch  left  once  more 
for  safe  keeping  with  that  dear  relative,  'my  uncle.' 
Whew  !  I'm  glad  I'm  once  more  out  of  that  dirty  den.  I'll 
shake  off  the  dust  from  my  feet,  as  well  as  from  my  clothes 
as  a  testimony  against  it." 

Proceeding  down  Broadway,  he  sauntered  leisurely  along 
till  he  reached  the  Astor-House,  which  he  entered  and  went 
immediately  to  his  own  room.  Different  articles  of  clothing 
were  scattered  about  the  floor  in  the  utmost  confusion. 

After  sitting  for  some  time  in  silence,  and  apparently  m 
deep  meditation,  he  roused  himself  and  commenced  picking 
up  and  packing  his  wardrobe  into  a  trunk,  that  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  chamber,  and  by  hard  labor,  pushing  and  press- 
ing, he  finally  got  everything  closely  packed  to  his  satisfac- 
tion. He  then  walked  towards  the  window  and  wiping  the 


38          OLD     HAUN        THE     PAWNBROKER. 

perspiration  from  his  forehead,  gazed  on   the  street,  and 
soliloquized  : 

"  Well  that's  done  once  more.  Now  I  must  go  and  see 
if  there's  a  letter.  If  Leonard  don't  send  me  some  money 
soon  I  shall  be  in  a  fix.  Fifty  dollars  don't  last  long.  How- 
ever, sumcient  for  the  day.  Now  for  the  letter,"  and  having 
first  surveyed  himself  in  the  mirror,  and  carefully  adjusted 
his  apparel,  he  left  the  house  and  directed  his  steps  towards 
the  post-office.  In  a  somewhat  nervous  manner  he  inquired 
if  the  southern  mail  had  arrived,  and  if  there  was  anything  for 
him.  To  his  great  joy  the  clerk  handed  him  a  letter.  It 
bore  the  postmark,  New  Orleans.  "  It's  the  one  for  a  cer- 
tainty," said  he  to  himself,  as  he  seized  it  and  glanced  at  the 
superscription,  at  the  same  time  placing  it  in  his  pocket,  and 
with  rapid  strides  retracing  his  way  to  his  hotel,  and  seeking 
again  his  own  room.  There  he  closed  the  door  and  eagerly 
tearing  open  the  letter,  found  his  hopes  and  expectations  re- 
alized, in  the  receipt  of  the  sought  for  remittance.  Laying 
the  letter  on  the  table  he  took  up  the  draft,  and  after  glanc- 
ing at  the  amount  folded  it  up  carefully  and  placed  it  in  his 
pocket.  He  then  read  the  letter  aloud  as  follows  : 

NEW  ORLEANS,  Oct.  10, 18 — . 

DEAR  JAMES  : — I  have  just  received  your  letter  of  September  5th, 
in  which  you  advise  me  of  your  want  of  success  in  your  mission.  In 
compliance  with  your  request  I  send  a  draft  for  five  hundred  dollars. 
But  this  must  be  the  last.  I  am  obliged  to  conclude  that  you  have  not 
been  very  earnest  in  your  endeavors  to  find  my  relatives,  or  you 
would  certainlv  have  discovered  some  traces  of  them  before  this. 


CORNELL     AND     OLD     HAUN.  39 

The  enclosed  funds  are  intended  to  defray  your  expenses,  until  your 
return  home. 

Your  friend  and  cousin, 

WILLIAM  LEONARD. 

X  Cornell  read  the  letter,  muttering  " '  short  and  sweet/ 
but  that's  always  the  way  in  this  world — '  no  rose  without 
some  thorn.' 

"  Now  if  he  had  only  sent  the  draft  without  the  letter  I 
should  have  been  much  better  pleased. 

"  However  one  thing  is  certain,  if  these  relations  turn  up 
they  become  his  heirs — if  they  don't  turn  up  then  I'm  the 
trump. 

"  But  then,  if  I  don't  look  for  them  the  old  dotard  '11  be 
up  here  himself  soon  and  perhaps  find  them  and  then  I  shall 
get  no  credit,  and  also  no  money.  If  I  do  find  them  I  get 
credit  but  no  money. 

"  Well,  the  case  is  a  hard  one.  But  I  must  make  some 
demonstration,  for  he  has  put  me  on  short  rations  and 
ordered  me  home  ?  Now  that  matter  's  settled,  where  shall 
I  go  to  look  for  them.  They  came  to  this  city,  and  here 
they  were  the  last  that  anything  was  known  of  them.  I'll 
look  around  among  the  stores  to-day,  for  he  was  a  book- 
keeper for  awhile,  and  may  be  still ;  I  do  hope  for  their 
sakes  that  they  are  dead,  and  happy  in  heaven  !" 

After  finishing  this  long  soliloquy,  Cornell  started  up 
impulsively,  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  out  the  idea  which 
had  so  suddenly  taken  possession  of  his  mind. 


4:0        OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

Leaving  him  to  continue  his  search  we  will  return  awhile 
to  the  children. 

Mich  went  directly  from  Mr.  Hervey's  to  his  own  home, 
and  immediately  communicated  to  his  mother  the  fact  of 
his  great  luck  in  getting  matches  to  sell  with  Anna,  and 
how  much  he  expected  to  bring  home  to  her,  and  that  she 
should  have  a  nice  supper  too.  After  he  had  remained  as 
he  supposed  long  enough  to  allow  the  Herveys  time  for 
their  meal,  he  started  again,  saying  to  his  mother  as  he  left 
the  room  : 

"  Now,  mother  darlint,  keep  a  good  heart,  for  I'm  afther 
makin'  me  fortun'  this  very  day.  Now  do  ye  and  Jonny 
ate  all  the  bread,  for  in  faith  I'll  bring  ye  more." 

"  Mich,  me  boy,  ye  must  stop  and  ate  ;  for  ye  've  not  had 
a  bite  the  blessed  live  long  mornin'." 

"  Och,  mother  !  didn't  the  Mistress  Hervey  make  me  ate 
till  I  couldn't  put  one  foot  afore  the  other  down  the  stairs — 
indade  an'  she  did." 

"  Out  wid  ye  boy,  to  be  after  decaving  yer  own  mother," 
said  Mrs.  Lynch,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  for  she  thought  her 
boy  was  denying  himself  in  order  that  she  might  not  suffer. 

Mich  approached  his  mother  and  said  earnestly,  "  I'm 
not  hungry  at  all,  and  ye  know  Jonuy  '11  want  some  bread 
before  I'm  back  again,  so  don't  be  persuadin'  me  any  longer," 
and  then  he  left. 

When  Mich  arrived  for  Anna,  she  was  ready  and  waiting. 
The  little  old  straw  bonnet  was  tied  on,  and  her  mother's 
shawl  wrapped  around  her,  for  the  wind  was  chilly.  The 


CORNELL     AND     OLD     HATTN.  41 

matches  were  put  into  a  little  wicker  basket — one  that  had 
been  her  mother's  work-basket,  but  who  had  no  use  for  it 
now,  for  Mrs.  Hervey's  eyes  had  failed  her  when  her 
need  was  sorest.  For  some  time  her  needle  had  afforded 
them  a  bare  subsistence  after  her  husband  had  become  too 
weak  to  engage  in  any  labor  ;  then  article  after  article  was 
sold  to  procure  the  bare  means  of  supporting  life,  until  there 
was  literally  nothing  left  to  them — and  they  lived  in  utter 
uncertainty  of  the  morrow  ! 

Mich  and  Anna  started  with  their  basket  of  matches — 
each  holding  it  by  one  of  the  little  loops  of  straw  that 
ornamented  its  sides.  After  reaching  the  street,  Anna 
said. 

"  Mich,  which  way  shall  we  go  ?" 

"  We'll  jist  go  slowly  like,  at  first,  and  see  if  we  can  sell 
some  in  this  street,  and  then  we'll  go  into  Broadway,  and 
mind  that  ye  don't  get  knocked  down  in  the  crowd." 

"  Oh  1  I  do  hope  we  can  sell  them  all.  Then  we  can  buy 
more — I  want  to  sell  a  great  many  to-day." 

"  Indade  !  and  so  do  I  that  same,  I  don't  know  what 
mother  and  Jonny  '11  do  for  a  male  if  I  don't.  Sorry  a 
thing  there's  lift  in  the  house  to  ate  at  all  at  all.  Barrin' 
a  crust  of  the  bread,  and  that  Jonny  had  for  his  breakfast. 
God  bless  yer  father  for  a  kind-hearted  gentleman  that  he 
is  for  helpin'  a  poor  boy  like  me.  Its  many  a  day  I've  been 
wantin'  to  sell  matches,  but  not  a  soul  would  thrust  me  for 
them  till  now." 

"  Where  did  you  get  money  to  buy  bread?" 


42          OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  I  minded  a  gintleman's  horse,  and  he  gave  me  sax- 
pence." 

"  Why  didn't  you  buy  matches  with  that  money  ?" 

"  And  lave  my  own  blessed  mother  to  go  hungry,  and 
little  Jonny  too  ?  Och,  he's  a  broth  of  a  boy,  is  Jonny, 
he's  such  takin'  ways  wid  him." 

"  Mich,  where  is  your  father  ?"  asked  Anna,  abruptly. 

"  Dead  !"  answered  Mich,  with  a  groan. 

"  When  did  he  die,  and  where  were  you  ?"  continued 
Anna  ;  "  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"Anna,  darlint,  I  jist  don't  like  spakin'  of  it  any 
more,"  said  Mich,  wiping  the  tears  away  with  his  ragged 
jacket. 

"  Don't  cry,  Mich,  I  didn't  mean  to  make  you  feel  bad  ;" 
and  Anna  dried  the  tears  that  were  already  trickling  in 
sympathy  down  her  own  cheeks. 

"  It's  not  yerself,  bless  yer  kind  heart !  Ye  wouldn't  harm 
the  worm  that  crawls,  so  don't  be  after  cryin'  yerself,  and 
I'll  tell  ye  all  about  it," 

"  No  !  no  !  Mich,  I  don't  want  you  to  tell  me,  if  it  makes 
you  feel  bad  to  talk  about  it." 

"  Niver  ye  care,  I'll  tell  ye  now,  if  ye'll  hearken  a  bit." 

"  Well  then,  Mich  ?" 

"  Sure  an'  a  sad  day  was  it  for  us  when  we  left  ould 
Ireland ;  but  me  father,  may  the  saints  rest  his  soul,  got 
discontinted  about  the  taxes  and  the  government,  and  it 
came  all  of  the  prastes  too,  who  wouldn't  lave  him  quiet. 
So  we  turned  our  backs  upon  our  home  in  the  ould  counthry 


CORNELL     AND     OLD     HAUN.  43 

and  como  across  the  salt  water  to  Araeriky  ;  then  we  all 
took  sick,  and  my  father  died  the  very  next  day  afther  we 
landid." 

"  Mich,  how  long  ago  was  it  ?" 

"  Jist  a  year  come  May  day,  an'  sure  a  sorry  May  day 
was  it  for  us.  We've  seen  the  great  sufferin'  since  we're 
here.  Niver  a  thing  is  left  to  us  of  all  that  we  brought 
wid  us  but  the  honest  hands  that  kape  us  from  starvin',  and 
the  stout  hearts  that  we  have.  It's  sickness  and  misfortin' 
that's  done  it.  For  it's  ashamed  we'd  be  to  let  our  frinds 
across  the  saa  know  that  we  left  the  nice  little  spot  of 
ground  with  its  nate  cottage  where  we  lived  all  so  aisy  and 
gintale  like,  to  come  to  Ameriky  to  beg." 

"  Did  you  know  any  one  here  when  you  landed  ?" 

"  Not  a  mother's  son  from  the  ould  counthry,  barrin'  the 
poor  crathurs  that  came  over  in  the  ship  wid  us,  and  they're 
not  the  people  one  would  be  after  sakin'  out  for  a  helpin' 
hand  in  sorrow  and  misfortun' — not  a  livin'  soul  this  side  of 
the  wide  saa." 

"  That's  too  bad,"  said  Anna,  sympathizingly. 

"  An'  it's  yerself  that's  not  much  better  to  do,  /though  ye 
are  in  yer  own  land  and  wid  yer  own  kin-." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  have  any  other  kin  ;  I  never  saw 
any.  But  I  have  heard  my  mother  talk  about  my  Uncle 
William  ;  I  suppose  he's  dead  though." 

"  An'  how  long  has  yer  father  been  sick  ?" 

"  Oh  1  a  long,  long  time,  ever  so  many  weeks,  but  I 
hope  he'll  be  better  soon." 


44        OLD     HATJN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Has  he  been  ailin'  all  the  summer  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  last  winter  too ;  but  then  we  lived  in  a 
nice  little  house  over  in  Brooklyn  ;  but  papa  got  sick,  and 
so  we  had  to  move  over  here  because  he  couldn't  walk  so 
far,  and  since  then  we've  lived  in  different  houses." 

"  What  did  he  do  ?" 

"  He  wrote  in  a  store,  till  he  got  so  sick  he  couldn't  write 
on  account  of  the  pain  in  his  side,  and  the  cough,  and  then 
the)'  didn't  want  him  any  longer." 

"  But  hadn't  ye  the  docthor  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  great  many  times,  till  we  hadn't  any  more  money 
to  pay  him,  and  then  he  wouldn't  come  any  longer.  And 
besides,  papa  said  he  didn't  want  one,  for  they  always  made 
him  worse  instead  of  better,  but  that  was  only  because  he 
didn't  want  mother  should  spend  the  little  money  we  could 
get  for  himself  alone." 

"  Have  ye  always  lived  here  since  ye  can  remember  ?" 

"  No  ;  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  we  lived  in  a  small  village 
a  great  ways  from  here.  I  remember  how  we " 

"  Faith,  here  we  are  in  Broadway,  and  not  a  sign  of  a 
match  sold  yet.  I'm  thinkin'  we'll  not  make  ourselves  sick 
wid  overatin'  to-day,  unless  we  ate  the  matches  themselves, 
for  sorra  a  thing  'ill  there  be  besides,  at  this  rate,"  said 
Mich,  interrupting  Anna. 

So  conversing,  the  two  adventurers  passed  along  the 
great  thoroughfare  of  the  city,  endeavoring  to  dispose  of 
their  wares.  They  had  waited  in  vain  to  have  those  who 
rushed  by,  intent  upon  their  own  absorbing  business,  stop  to 


CORNELL     AND     OLD     HAUN.  45 

take  notice  of  their  humble  stock.  And  so,  at  Mich's  sug- 
gestion, concluded  to  take  the  bold  step  of  accosting  those 
whom  they  judged  might  possibly  purchase.  They  met  with 
many  repulses,  and  with  but  few  sales.  They  had  visited 
most  of  the  hotels  and  public  places,  as  they  wandered  on 
up  Broadway,  and  still  had  a  balance  of  stock  on  hand. 
Beginning  to  feel  tired  and  hungry,  and  withal  somewhat 
discouraged,  they  concluded  to  turn  back,  and  on  their  way 
down  call  at  some  of  the  stores  where  they  had  not  yet 
been.  They  did  so,  and  sold  here  and  there  a  bunch,  but 
not  enough  to  exhaust  their  supply  or  empty  their  basket. 

"  Let's  jist  thry  them  in  here,"  said  Mich  suddenly,  as  they 
came  opposite  another  store  ;  opening  the  door  Mich  cried 
out,  "  matches." 

"  What's  that  ?  matches  ?"  said  a  dapper  little  man,  turn- 
ing around,  "  that's  just  what  I  want,  boy.  How  do  you 
sell  them  ?" 

"  Cint  a  bunch,  sir,"  answered  Mich,  eagerly. 

"  Are  they  first  rate  ?  eh  1  What  are  you  looking  at  so 
earnestly,  little  girl?" 

"  Will  you  buy  some,  sir  ?" 

"  Why  yes,  I  guess  I  will,  but  you  don't  expect  to  make 
your  fortune  selling  matches  do  you  ?" 

"  No,  but  I  want  to  buy  something  nice  to  eat  for  my 
father,"  said  Anna  timidly. 

"  Who  is  your  father  ?  and  why  don't  he  buy  Ms  own  sup- 
per ?" 

"He  is  very  sick  and  can't  work  now." 


46          OLD     HADN,     THE     PAWNBROKER... 

"  Is  this  your  brother  ?"  pointing  to  Mich. 

"  No  indade  an'  I'm  not  her  brother.  I'm  Mich  Lynch," 
answered  the  latter  eagerly." 

"  Do  you  own  part  of  the  stock  in  trade  ?" 

"  What,  sir  ?" 

"  Do  part  of  the  matches  belong  to  you  ?" 

"  Och,  is  that  what  ye  mane  ?"  Well !  ye  see,  sir,  Mr. 
Hervey,  and  he's  as  nice  a  gintleman  as  iver  lived,  sir,  he. 
said  if  I'd  go  with  Anna  and  help  sell  the  matches  he'd  give 
me  half  the  profits,  sir." 

"Well,  that's  fair,  and  I  guess  you  are  two  honest 
children,  so  I'll  buy  the  lot.  How  much  do  you  ask  for 
them  all  ?"  said  the  merchant. 

"  God  bless  yer  kind  heart  I  Anna,  ye  can  count  the 
bunches,  'tis  a  cint  a  bunch,  ye  know." 

Anna  commenced  laying  the  bunches  out  on  the  counter 
— counting  them  as  she  did  so.  Her  hand  and  voice  trem- 
bling with  excitement. 

"  There  are  twenty-three  bunches,  sir." 

"  All  right.  Will  you  come  here  again  ?  by  the  way,  what 
do  you  say  your  name  is  ?" 

"Anna  Hervey.    Shall  I  bring  you  some  more  matches  ?" 

In  a  few  days  I  shall  want  more.  There  are  two  shillings 
— that  will  pay  you  for  these  that  I  have  already,"  said  he, 
handing  her  the  money. 

Anna  took  the  money  in  her  hand,  saying,  "  Thank  you 
sir.  But,  sir " 

"  What  is  it  ?" 


CORNELL     AND     OLD     HATJN.  47 

"There  were  only  twenty-three  bunches,  which  make 
twenty  three  cents,  here  is  the  change." 

"  Never  mind  the  pennies." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Anna,  and  "  thank  ye  kindly,"  said 
Mich,  as  they  both  turned  to  leave. 

Upon  reaching  the  street  they  stopped  for  a  moment  to 
examine  the  money  that  they  had  received — and  to  count 
their  profits.  No  miser  gloating  over  hoarded  gold  ever 
felt  the  pure  delight  that  they  did  in  counting  and  recount- 
ing their  receipts. 

After  their  joy  had  somewhat  abated  they  started  for 
their  homes,  hurrying  along  as  fast  as  possible,  in  order 
that  they  might  make  others  partakers  with  them  in  their 
happiness. 

"  Mich,  what  shah1  we  do  now  ?"  said  Anna,  as  they  turned 
into  the  street  leading  to  her  own  home. 

"  Well,  now  I'll  tell  ye,  we'll  jist  go  up  and  show  ye're 
father  and  ye're  mother  the  great  luck  that  we've  had." 

"  So  we  will." 

"  See  here,  mother,  see  !"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  rushed 
into  her  own  room  after  climbing  the  stairs,  while  Mich 
more  slowly  followed  after. 

"  Hush,  hush,  Anna  !"  said  Mrs.  Hervey,  pointing  to  the 
bed,  "  your  father  is  asleep,  don't  wake  him." 

Anna  then  went  softly  up  to  her  mother,  and  showed  her 
the  empty  basket  and  the  money  saying,  "  sold  them  all, 
every  one,  and  here's  the  money." 

"  You  are  very  fortunate,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.   Hervey,  aa 


48         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

she  caught  the  happy  look  of  Mich,  who,  with  cap  in  hand, 
stood  by  the  half-opened  door. 

"  Come  here,  Mich,"  she  added,  "  you  have  been  very 
kind  to  go  with  Anna  to-day,  and  we  shall  hope  sometime 
to  repay  you.  I  suppose  you  are  anxious  to  get  home  now. 
So  we  will  not  detain  you,  but  as  Anna  wants  to  go  down  to 
the  grocery,  you  will  let  her  go  with  you.  Now,  daughter," 
she  continued,  turning  to  Anna,  "  you  had  better  go  at  once 
to  buy  what  you  intended  for  your  papa." 

Mrs.  Hervey  sat  some  moments  in  meditation,  after  the 
children  had  left,  but  hearing  her  husband  turning  restlessly, 
said  : 

"  Edward,  did  we  awaken  you  ?  I  did  hope  you  would 
sleep  and  would  feel  better." 

"  It  is  just  as  well,  I  could  not  sleep  on  account  of  the 
pain  in  my  side,  which  seems  to  increase.  But  my  bodily 
suffering  will  soon  be  ended,  and  then  I  shall  sleep." 

Mrs.  Hervey's  lip  quivered  with  emotion,  and  she  turned 
away  to  hide  the  tears  that  started  to  her  eyes.  With  a 
strong  will  she  suppressed  them,  and  pressing  her  hand  for 
a  moment  upon  her  aching  heart  to  quiet  its  throbbing, 
replied  : 

"  Edward,  I  am  going  to  see  a  physician  and  get  some 
medicine  for  you.  I  have  now  the  money  to  pay,  so  do  not 
object  to  it." 

"  Mary,  my  dear  wife,  I  cannot  consent  to  your  using  the 
only  money  you  have,  in  order  that  you  may  procure  for  me 
that  which  can  be  of  no  permanent  benefit.  You  know 


CORNELL     AND     OLD     HAUN.  49 

medicines  cannot  help  me  now."  A  violent  fit  of  coughing 
interrupted  him,  after  which  he  laid  back  quite  exhausted, 
and  Mrs.  Hervey  did  not  dare  to  say  anything  more  at  that 
time.  She  knew  she  could  not  cure  him,  but  did  hope  she 
might  find  something  to  alleviate  his  present  sufferings. 

"  Papa,  what  would  you  like  for  your  supper,"  interrupted 
Anna,  who  had  just  returned  from  the  grocery  with  a  loaf 
of  bread,  "  I  want  to  get  you  something  nice." 

."  My  dear  girl,  I  cannot  eat  much,  a  very  little  suffices 
me  now,"  said  Mr.  Hervey,  laying  his  hand  upon  her  head. 
You  and  your  mother  must  eat  more  or  you  will  be  sick. 
Human  nature  can't  endure  every  privation. 

"  Edward,  Edward,  you  must  keep  more  quiet,  and  not 
talk  so  much." 

"  I  will  for  your  sake." 


50 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE   LITTLE   MATCH   VENDORS. 

MR.  HERVEY  felt  better  than  usual,  when  Anna  returned 
that  evening  with  what  she  thought  would  be  for  her  parents 
a  great  luxury.  And  she  went  about  lighting  a  fire  that  she 
might  prepare  the  supper. 

"  Now,  mother,  let  me  do  it  all,"  said  she,  when  her 
mother  would  have  assisted  her,  as  she  drew  up  the  table  to 
the  bedside,  and  spread  upon  it  a  clean  cloth.  The  few 
dishes  that  they  had  retained  were  then  placed  upon  the 
table,  and  tea  being  made,  and  their  supper  prepared,  they 
sat  down.  Mr.  Hervey  had  been  raised  and  bolstered  up  so 
that  he  could  sit  at  the  table,  with  the  others.  Anna  her- 
self could  scarcely  eat  from  the  excess  of  joy  she  felt  at 
seeing  her  parents  once  more  seated  together  at  the  evening 
meal,  a  sight  to  which  she  had  been  for  some  time  a 
stranger.  She  exclaimed — 

"  Mamma,  I  knew  we  would  need  a  candle,  so  I  bought 
some,  and  now  you  won't  have  to  sit  all  night  in  the  dark 
with  papa  as  you  did  last  night." 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH     VENDORS.  51 

She  continued  chatting  away  to  her  parents,  telling  them 
of  the  many  to  her,  amusing  things  that  had  occurred  dur- 
ing her  day's  wanderings,  which  would  now  and  then  elicit  a 
smile  and  kind  word  from  her  dearly  loved  father.  Mrs. 
Hervey  listened  abstractedly.  A  shadowy  and  undefined 
foreboding  of  some  coming  evil,  pressed  like  a  weight  of 
lead  upon  her  heart.  Old  associations  thronged  upon  her 
memory.  She  thought  of  the  many  pleasant  days  they  had 
passed  together,  of  the  many  returns  of  morning,  noon,  and 
evening  that  had  found  them  all  gathered  together  as  now, 
around  the  same  board,  before  sickness  and  want  came.  She 
thought  of  the  long  pilgrimage,  hand  in  hand  through  life, 
which  had  latterly  become  so  lonely  and  desolate. 

Her  eyes  scarcely  moved  from  the  face  of  her  husband 
while  Anna  was  talking  ;  every  change  of  expression  that 
flitted  over  his  wan  features,  every  look  and  smile  were 
daguerreotyped  in  her  memory.  Thus  passed  some  time, 
until  Mrs.  Hervey  observed  that  he  was  becoming  fatigued, 
and  then  she  said — 

"  Anna,  you  had  better  kiss  papa  good  night,  and  go  to 
bed.  You  must  be  very  tired,  you  have  walked  so  far  to- 
day." 

Anna  rose  immediately  and  prepared  herself  for  bed,  pro- 
testing,  however,  that  she  was  not  at  all  tired.  But  her  head 
had  not  long  rested  on  its  pillow  ere  she  was  sleeping  soundly. 

"  Now,  Edward,  you  must  lie  down,  and  keep  quiet,  and 
perhaps,  you'll  go  to  sleep,"  said  Mrs.  Hervey,  addressing 
him  after  Anna  had  gone  to  bed. 


52         OLD     HATJN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Well,  I  will,  if  you  will  promise  to  lie  down  too.  You 
must  not  sit  up  as  you  did  last  night  ;  I  will  speak  to  you  if 
I  should  want  anything." 

Well !  I  will  lie  down  on  Anna's  bed,  so  that  I  shall  not 
disturb  you  if  you  get  to  sleep,"  said  Mrs.  Hervey.  Not 
that  she  expected  to  sleep,  but  she  hoped  that  he  would  be 
more  tranquil  if  he  imagined  her  to  be  resting.  She  laid  for 
a  long  time  until  she  knew  by  the  manner  of  his  breathing 
that  he  was  asleep,  and  then  rising  and  stealing  quietly 
across  the  room,  stood  and  gazed  upon  him  as  he  slept,  while 
the  scalding  tears  streamed  down  her  pale  and  careworn 
cheek.  She  knelt  by  the  bedside  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands.  All  was  still  in  the  room,  a  confused  murmur  floated 
up  from  the  street,  below  where  the  tide  of  life  rushed  madly 
through  the  thoroughfares  of  the  city.  But  she  felt  herself 
alone.  Long  she  knelt,  and  when  she  arose  the  tears  were 
dried.  Looking  at  the  unconscious  sleeper  again  earnestly, 
she  smoothed  the  hair  from  his  forehead,  and  again  laid  her- 
self down  by  her  child.  Mental  strength  could  not  resist  the 
impulse  of  over-wrought  nature,  and  she  slept. 

What  a  contrast !  the  daughter,  sleeping  the  deep,  un- 
broken sleep  of  childhood,  with  the  bloom  of  scarce  ten 
summers  upon  her  cheek,  and  the  mother  lying  beside  her, 
but  with  a  pale  and  careworn  countenance  on  which  traces  of 
youthful  beauty  still  lingered,  starting  with  nervous  irrita- 
bility at  every  sound  that  broke  the  solemn  stillness  of  the 
room.  Hours  passed  and  the  night  waned. 

Mrs.  Hervey  thought  she  had  slept  but  a  few  moments, 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH     VENDORS.  53 

when  she  was  suddenly  aroused  by  the  violent  coughing  of 
her  husband,  but  she  had  slept  a  long  time,  for  it  was 
now  past  midnight.  She  started  to  her  feet  instantly  and 
springing  to  his  bed-side,  uttered  a  shriek.  A  dreadful  sight 
met  her  eyes,  he  had  burst  a  blood-vessel,  and  his  clothes 
were  saturated  with  his  life  blood.  She  comprehended  at  a 
glance  the  terrible  reality,  but  even  then  her  presence  of 
mind  did  not  desert  her.  She  wiped  his  lips,  and  wrapping 
her  shawl  about  her,  exclaimed  in  an  agonized  voice  : 

"  Edward  !  do  not  speak — do  not  try — I  must  go  for  a 
physician.  I  will  not  be  gone  long  ,"  and  then  seeing  that 
he  was  attempting  to  speak,  she  added, 

"  Edward,  I  must  go — no  !  no  !  do  not  speak.  Anna 
shall  watch  beside  you  while  I  am  gone,"  and  then  turning 
to  Anna,  who  aroused  by  the  noise  had  started  up  in  bed, 
said, 

"  Anna  !  come  quick  ;  sit  here — don't  let  papa  speak,  not 
one  word — I  am  going  for  a  doctor." 

Anna  did  as  she  was  desired.  Her  dark  eyes  dilated 
with  horror  at  her  father's  bloody  clothes  and  deathlike 
countenance.  But  not  a  a  tear  or  sob  escaped  her  as  she 
stood  and  gazed  upon  him,  not  for  an  instant  did  she  avert 
her  eyes,  which  were  fixed  intently  upon  his  ghastly  face. 

Mrs.  Hervey  wrapped  her  shawl  about  her  and  started  out 
to  seek  medical  aid.  As  she  reached  the  street  she  stood 
for  a  moment,  uncertain  which  way  to  take,  and  then  hurried 
on.  When  out  of  the  hearing  of  her  husband,  she  gave 
free  vent  to  the  consuming  anguish  that  she  had  so  long 


54:         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

smothered  in  her  breast.  But  now  it  would  not  longer  be 
controlled. 

The  streets  were  comparatively  deserted.  But  few 
appeared  abroad  at  that  late  hour,  except  as  the  jaws  of 
some  gambling  hell  yawned  to  give  egress  to  its  reeling  and 
notorious  company,  many  of  whom  as  she  hurried  past 
them,  would  turn  to  gaze  and  stare  after  her,  attracted  by 
the  horror-stricken  expression  of  her  countenance. 

She  hurried  wildly  on,  looking  eagerly  about  on  every  side 
for  some  signs  of  a  physician's  abode.  After  having  gone 
some  distance  without  finding  any,  she  heard  footsteps  ra- 
pidly approaching,  and  immediately  a  hand  fell  heavily  upon 
her  shoulder  and  clutched  her  arm,  at  the  same  time  a 
rough  voice  shouted  in  her  ear — 

"  Where  to,  now,  in  such  a  hurry  ?" 

"  Let  me  go  ;  oh,  let  me  go  1"  she  exclaimed,  frantically,  as 
she  turned  her  head  towards  the  intruder,  still  struggling  to 
hurry  on. 

Her  only  thought  was  of  her  dying  husband,  she  forgot 
entirely  that  she  was  a  weak  and  unprotected  woman,  that 
she  was  alone,  with  none  to  help  her,  in  the  streets  of  a  great 
city,  of  a  city  where  crime  skulks  about  nightly  in  darkness 
and  gloom — and  where  vice  stalks  abroad  in  gorgeous 
shamelessness,  and  where  innocence  shrinks  timidly  away 
from  contact  with  those  wretched  outcasts  who  have  sacri- 
ficed themselves,  body  and  soul,  to  man  and  sin  !  She  forgot 
all,  save  that  her  husband  was  dying — was  alone — and  no 
one  near  to  help  him,  and  again  she  gasped  out, 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH     VENDORS.  55 

"  He  will  die  !  lie  will  die  !  all  alone,  and  I  have  left 
him.  You  must  not  keep  me." 

"  I  don't  keep  you  ;  go  along  and  I'll  go  with  you  ; 
come  !"  said  the  ruffian,  passing  his  arm  around  her  waist 
and  pressing  her  to  him. 

But  with  almost  superhuman  strength  she  pushed  him 
aside,  and  panting  for  breath  fled  away.  He  followed  and 
she  heard  his  steps  as  he  came  up  to  her,  and  clasping  both 
her  wrists  in  his  hands,  held  her  perfectly  still  while  he 
peered  with  a  maudlin  grimace  into  her  face,  saying, 

"  Not  so  fast,  my  beauty  ;  come,  give  me  a  kiss — just  one 
— and  don't  you  try  to  run  away  from  me  again." 

"  For  God's  sake  let  me  go  ;"  shrieked  Mrs.  Hervey. 

"  Oh !  yes,  of  course,  we'll  both  go,  you  needn't  be  so 
shy — come,  where  do  you  live  ?" 

"  Is  there  no  help  1" 

"  None  that  I  know  of  just  at  this  minute,"  said  he,  mock- 
ingly, "  there's  the  charlies,  but  you  can't  depend  upon  them 
at  no  time  when  you  want  them." 

"  Mrs.  Hervey  gave  one  loud  and  prolonged  shriek,  and 
struggled  violently,  when  she  felt  his  hot  breath  again  upon 
her  cheek — at  the  moment  she  caught  the  sound  of  the 
watchman's  rattle  and  again  screamed,  "  Help  1  help  !"  as 
she  heard  him  coming  towards  them  with  quick  and  length- 
ened strides. 

The  villain,  seeing  that  he  was  going  to  be  disappointed 
of  his  prey,  uttered  a  fearful  curse  and  threw  her  from  him 


56         OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

with  such  force  that  she  fell  violently  upon  the  pavement, 
and  fled. 

The  watchman  soon  came  up,  and  taking  her  roughly  by 
the  arm  drew  her  upon  her  feet  saying, 

"  What's  the  row  here  ?  drunk  ?  eh  !  Say  !  looke  here 
now,  what's  all  this  yelling  about  ?  Hallo  !  you — wak  e 
up  ;"  and  he  shook  her  till  he  aroused  her  from  her  insensi- 
bility. 

As  her  senses  returned,  the  condition  of  her  husband 
rushed  upon  her  recollection  and  revived  her  energies.  She 
gasped  out, 

"  Oh,  tell  me  where  there  is  a  physician,  my  husband  is 
dying  !" 

"  Your  husband  !  Why,  what  are  you  out  at  this  time 
of  night  for,  if  you  have  a  husband  ?" 

"  He  is  alone  and  dying,  and  I  am  not  near  him.  Can 
you  tell  me  where  there  is  a  physician  ?" 

The  discerning  watchman  soon  discovered  from  her 
voice  and  manner  that  her  grief  was  deep  and  unfeigned, 
and  he  replied  : 

"  Was  it  you  I  heard  scream  ?  It  is  so  dark  just  in  this 
shadow  that  I  couldn't  see  any  one  until  I  came  out  of  that 
alley." 

"  Yes,  ~as  I  was  hastening  for  a  physician  I  was  overtaken 
and  assaulted  by  a  ruffian  who  fled  on  hearing  your  step. 
But  I  must  go.  He  may  already  be  dead — will  you  direct 
me?" 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH     VENDORS.  57 

"  Yes,  come  along — this  way.  What's  the  matter  with 
your  old  man  ?" 

"  Oh,  he's  dying  of  consumption,  and  to-night  he  has  burst 
a  blood-vessel  in  coughing,  and  he'll  die,  he'll  die  before  I 
can  get  there,"  said  she,  wringing  her  hands  in  agony. 

"  Not  much  use  getting  a  doctor,  then,"  he  responded, 
bluntly. 

"  Yes,  yes,  he  must  be  helped  ;  are  we  almost  there  ? 
Faster,  faster." 

"  Yes,  here  it  is — right  here.  This  is  the  one — no  I'm 
mistaken — I  don't  find  his  name — he  must  have  moved," 
said  the  watchman,  hesitatingly,  and  going  into  the  street  to 
get  a  better  survey  of  the  block. 

"  I  have  it  ;  I  was  mistaken  in  the  house,"  he  continued, 
as  he  returned  to  the  sidewalk.  "  It's  this  other  house — 
this  is  it — where  in  thunder  is  the  bell-knob—now  I've  found 
it,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  gave  the  bell  a  vigorous  jerk,  and 
then  waited  in  silence  for  an  answer. 

Soon  a  window  was  raised  above,  a  head  thrust  out, 
exclaiming  : 

"  Hello  there,  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Here's  a  woman  down  here,  doctor,  that  wants  you  in  a 
good  deal  of  a  hurry." 

"  Be  down  in  a  minute,"  was  the  brief  reply,  as  the  head 
disappeared  from  the  window,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they 
heard  the  key  turn  in  the  door  which  was  set  wide  open, 
and  the  doctor  inquired  : 

"  Well,  what's  the  matter  ?» 

3* 


58         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

Mrs.  Hervey  then  stepped  up,  and  said  :  "Will  you 
please  to  go  with  me  and  see  my  husband.  I  will  pay  you, 
sir." 

"  I  will  go  certainly,  if  I  can  be  of  any  service  ;  but 
there'll  be  tune  enough  to  talk  of  pay  when  the  work  is 
done.  But  who  is  your  husband,  and  where  do  you  live  ? 
and  what  is  the  matter  with  him  ?"  asked  the  blunt  doctor, 
all  in  a  breath. 

"He  has  got  the  consumption,  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs- 
Hervey,  despondingly,  and  then  added  with  vehemence  : 
"  Come  quick,  if  you  will  go,  or  he  will  bleed  to  death." 

"  So  that's  it,  eh  ?  humph,  I  see  it  all,"  grunted  the 
doctor,  as  he  walked  away,  leaving  them  standing  on  the 
steps. 

"  Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?  what  shall  I  do  ?  if  he  would 
only  go  at  once,"  said  Mrs.  Hervey,  bursting  into  tears." 

"  There,  woman,  don't  take  on  so.  He'll  go — to  be  sure 
he  will.  I'd  like  to  see  Doctor  Foster  refuse  to  go  to  see 
any  poor  creature — either  by  night  or  by  day — I  reckon  it's 
a  bad  case  that  he  don't  try  to  help.  So  cheer  up,  he'll  be 
ready  in  a  minute.  There's  many  a  poor  man  in  the  ward 
has  reason  to  bless  Doctor  Foster,  and  to  remember  him,  too, 
the  longest  day  he  lives.  He's  none  of  your  hard-hearted 
ones,  that  go  only  into  the  gentlemen's  houses,  where  they 
are  sure  of  their  fees.  I've  known  him  now,  let  me  see,  it's 
going  on  seven  years,  and  I've  never  known  him  yet  to 
refuse,  either  in  summer  or  winter,  to  go  when  sent  for,  let 
alone  the  times  he  has  gone  of  his  own  accord  to  visit 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH     VEND  OK  8.  59 

widows  and  such  like  poor  people,  wlio  hadn't  the  heart  to 
send  for  him  when  they  knew  they  couldn't  pay  him." 

The  kind-hearted  watchman  continued  talking  in  this 
strain  while  they  were  waiting,  in  order  that  he  might  tem- 
porarily divert  the  attention  of  Mrs.  Hervey  from  the  cause 
of  her  grief. 

"  There  he  comes  ;  I  told  you  so,"  he  joyfully  ex- 
claimed, as  the  doctor  made  his  appearance,  prepared  to 
obey  the  summons. 

The  latter  had  added  to  his  apparel  a  rough  overcoat, 
while  under  one  arm  he  held  a  heavy  cane  of  thorn,  with 
a  fancifully  carved  head  of  ivory.  This  was  his  constant 
and  only  companion  on  his  midnight  walks  through  the  city. 
Under  the  other  arm  he  held  a  small  morocco  case  of  medi- 
cines. This  he  carried  with  him  in  cases  of  emergency, 
hi  order  that  there  might  not  be  the  delay  of  sending  to  a 
druggist. 

He  locked  the  door,  and  plunging  both  hands  into  the 
capacious  pockets  of  his  overcoat,  briefly  asked : 

"  Which  way  ?" 

"  This  way,  this  way,"  said  Mrs.  Hervey,  starting  off 
rapidly  towards  her  own  abode,  and  turning  her  head  to  see 
if  the  doctor  was  following. 

"  Yes,  I'm  coming  ;  run  on  as  fast  as  you  please,  I'll  be 
close  behind  you,"  called  out  the  doctor,  as  he  noticed  her 
look. 

"  Well,  good-night,"  said  the  watchman,  as  they  started. 


GO         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  i  reckon  you  won't  want  me  any  longer,  so  I'll  be  off  about 
lay  business." 

Mrs.  Hervey  stopped  at  his  salutation.  She  could  not 
let  him  go  without  a  word  of  thanks  for  his  attention, 
although  her  thoughts  were  with  him  she  had  left  dying  at 
home,  and  she  felt  that  every  moment's  delay  might  prove 
fatal.  But  she  said  as  she  hurried  past  him  : 

"  I  thank  you  very  much  for  your  kindness.  God  will 
reward  you  for  it." 

The  watchman  made  no  reply,  but  leaning  against  a  sign- 
post, gazed  after  them  abstractedly,  till  their  rapid  steps 
took  them  from  his  sight,  when  he  glided  into  the  shadow 
of  a  building,  and  resumed  his  solitary  duties. 

Mrs.  Hervey  in  her  anxiety  had  reached  the  stairway 
leading  to  her  room  some  time  in  advance  of  the  doctor, 
and  stood  awaiting  his  approach. 

"  You  can't  mean  to  say  that  it  is  up  those  stairs,"  said 
he,  as  he  drew  near  and  glanced  to  the  top,  measuring  the 
distance  with  his  eye. 

"  Yes  sir  ;  in  the  attic." 

"  Well,  up  then.  Attic  1  pretty  place  for  a  man  dying 
of  consumption.  Want  to  get  pure  air,  I  suppose,  but 
they'll  have  to  get  nearer  heaven  than  this  to  find  it  in  thia 
filthy  street.  Whew,  here's  a  journey  before  me  ;  but  I 
must  take  it  slowly.  Three  times  a  day  up  and  down  these 
stairs  would  be  about  as  much  exercise  as  I  should  want." 
Muttering  thus  to  himself,  the  doctor  followed  slowly  after 


THE      LITTLE     MATCH      VENDOK8.  61 

Mrs.  Hervey  up  the  stairs,  and  finally  stood  panting  at  the 
top.  Before  entering,  he  waited  for  a  moment  and  looked 
into  the  room.  At  a  glance,  he  comprehended  all— poverty 
— sickness — death.  Life's  miseries  were  no  sealed  book  to 
him. 

He  advanced  to  the  bedside,  took  the  sick  man's  hand, 
felt  his  pulse,  looked  at  him  intently  for  a  moment,  shook 
his  head  silently,  and  turned  away.  As  he  turned,  he 
observed  Anna,  who  was  gazing  anxiously  into  his  face. 
Her  large,  dreamy  eyes  seemed  to  ask,  "  Can  you  help 
him  ?"  He  understood  the  mute  appeal,  and  again  shook 
his  head  sadly,  saying  : 

"  No  !  it  is  too  late." 

Mrs.  Hervey  had  turned  too,  and  looked  into  his  face, 
and  there  read  the  confirmation  of  her  worst  fears  before  he 
had  uttered  the  words.  She  laid  her  hand  upon  that  of  her 
husband,  saying  : 

"  Edward,  my  husband,  won't  you  look  at  me  ?" 

The  dying  man  opened  his  eyes,  and  gazed  for  a  moment 
up  into  her  face,  with  an  expression  of  tenderest  feeling, 
and  then  motioned  Anna,  who  stood  near,  to  approach.  He 
placed  her  where  his  eyes  could  rest  upon  her,  and  laid  his 
hand  upon  her  bowed  head.  His  lips  moved,  but  no  sound 
escaped  them.  His  wife  bent  her  ear,  and  heard  the  whis- 
pered words  :  "  Mary — God — bless — you — Come — nearer — 
nearer — Anna — Good-bye."  And  then  he  turned  his  face  to 
the  wall  to  die.  A  gasp,  a  sigh,  and  all  was  still.  "  The 
silver  cord  was  loosed  and  the  golden  bowl  broken."  They 


62         OLD     HAtJN,     THE     PAWNBKOKEK. 

stood  waiting  another  word,  a  token  of  recognition,  a  pres- 
sure of  the  hand,  but  in  vain.  They  were  alone  in  the 
wilderness  of  life — alone  ! 

The  Doctor  came  forward  and  closed  the  eyes  of  the  hus- 
band and  father.  Then  the  strength  that  had  sustained  the 
stricken  wife  deserted  her,  and  she  fell  senseless,  lifeless  to 
the  floor.  Then  did  the  fatherless  child  comprehend  the 
measure  of  her  affliction.  She  knelt  beside  her  mother's 
helpless  form,  called  her  by  every  endearing  name,  took  her 
by  the  hand,  and  endeavored  to  raise  her  from  the  floor, 
kissed  her  lips,  cheeks,  and  forehead  ;  and  pillowed  her  head 
upon  her  arm.  As  soon  as  the  kind  doctor  could  obtain 
water,  he  sprinkled  it  in  the  face  of  the  insensible  woman, 
applied  restoratives,  chafed  her  hands,  and  adopted  other 
means  within  his  power,  but  she  revived  slowly.  His  heart 
was  touched  by  Anna's  sorrow,  and  he  tried  in  his  own 
peculiar  way  to  utter  words  of  consolation. 

"  Child,  child,  don't  take  on  so,  she's  not  dead,  hearts 
don't  break  so  easily,  though  God  knows  hers  must  have 
been  sorely  tried.  Poor  thing  !  poor  thing  1  but  the  old  doc- 
tor'll  take  care  of  you  and  her  too,  you  see  if  he  don't." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  I  don't  know  him,"  said  Anna,  looking  up 
in  surprise  ?" 

"  Supposing  you  don't ;  I  know  him.  He's  somebody  that's 
got  neither  kith  nor  kin  to  care  for  him.  Would  you  like 
to  live  with  me  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  :  there's  nobody  left  now  but  mother.  Oh  1 
my  poor,  poor  papa,  they'll  put  him  in  the  ground,  and  I 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH     VENDORS.  63 

can  never  see  him  again,"  sobbed  Anna  convulsively,  as  the 
tears  ran  down  her  cheeks,  and  fell  upon  the  pale  face  of 
her  mother.  By  the  constant  exertions  of  the  doctor,  Mrs. 
Hervey  began  to  recover  her  consciousness,  but  was  still  very 
weak,  although  she  attempted  to  rise.  "  Don't  get  up  now. 
Lie  still  and  rest  you,"  said  Anna,  gently  restraining  her. 

As  the  veil  of  unconsciousness  fell  from  Mrs.  Hervey's 
sight,  the  dead  body  of  her  husband  appeared  to  her,  and 
her  seared  eye-balls  were  moistened  with  tears.  From  under 
her  closed  eye-lids  they  stole,  and  eased  her  aching  heart. 
The  doctor  observing  it,  rose  from  her  side  and  left  her.  He 
went  to  the  bed  and  placed  the  emaciated  form  of  the  dead 
in  as  natural  a  position  as  he  could,  and  covered  it  over.  He 
then  walked  up  and  down  the  small  room  revolving  in  his 
mind  plans  for  the  future.  An  arrangement  had  already 
suggested  itself  to  his  mind,  which  he  had  no  doubt  would 
be  acquiesced  in  by  those  interested.  He  knew  from  their 
conversation  aud  manners,  that  the  persons  whom  he  had 
that  night  met  in  that  miserable  abode,  were  not  of  the  mass 
— that  they  had  moved  in  a  different  sphere,  and  although 
forced  by  misfortune  to  live  among  the  rough  and  degraded 
inhabitants  of  the  neighborhood  ;  still  he  saw  that  they 
were — although  among  them — not  of  them. 

He  resolved  not  to  desert  them,  and  after  waiting  for  the 
first  burst  of  grief  to  subside,  he  stepped  up  to  Mrs.  Hervey 
aud  said  : 

"  My  good  woman  be  quiet.  I  can  do  nothing  more  for 
you  until  daylight.  So  I  will  leave  you  now  and  come  again 


I 

64:         OLD     HAUNj     THE     PAWNBKOKEK. 

in  an  hour  or  so.  Can  you  get  up  and  go  to  the  bed  if  I 
help  you  ?  Come  try."  He  took  hold  of  her  arm  and  as- 
sisted her  to  rise,  and  with  his  support  she  reached  the  bed 
and  laid  down  upon  it.  Anna  smoothed  the  pillow  and 
covered  her  tenderly,  saying  : 

"  There,  mother,  you  go  to  sleep,  and  I  will  sit  here  on 
the  bed  beside  you." 

"  Yes  ;  yes,  get  sleep  if  you  can  ;  that's  good  advice,  and 
I'll  be  back  again  before  long,  and  hope  I  shall  find  you 
better,"  and  taking  up  his  hat,  and  putting  his  stick  under 
his  arm,  the  doctor  started  for  the  door,  but  before 
leaving  he  turned  back  and  said  : 

"  See  here,  my  little  girl,  I  suppose,  you  are  sleepy,  but 
you  must  manage  to  keep  your  eyes  open,  for  your  mother 
may  faint  again  ;  if  she  should,  just  sprinkle  some  cold  water 

in  her  face,  and here  keep  this  bottle  of  salts,  she  may 

need  it ;  but  don't  you  let  her  get  up.  Mind  that,  will  you  ?" 

"  Yes  sir,  but  I  am  not  sleepy,  not  at  all,"  answered  Anna, 
cheered  by  his  kind  and  affectionate  manner,  for  she  felt  in- 
stinctively that  a  friend  had  been  raised  up  for  her. 

The  doctor  closed  the  door,  and  left  them  alone — alone 
with  the  dead." 

For  a  time  they  were  silent,  and  then  Anna  observing 
that  her  mother  was  still  weeping,  bent  over  her  caressingly 
and  said : 

"  Don't  cry,  dear  mother." 

Mrs.  Hervey  drew  her  to  her  bosom  and  embraced  her 
convulsively.  Anna  now  burst  forth  into  a  violent  paroxysm 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH     VENDORS.  65 

of  weeping,  and  her  mother  let  her  rest  her  head  upon  her 
breast  and  weep  till  her  grief  had  exhausted  itself,  then  she 
said,  in  a  low,  calm  voice  : 

"  Anna,  my  darling,  remember  that  papa  is  happy  now  ; 
do  not  weep  for  him,  nor  wish  him  back  here  to  suffer. 
Only  strive  so  to  live  that  we  may  go  to  him." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  mamma,  I  shall  never  see  him  again," 
sobbed  Anna. 

"  Not  here,  my  child,  but  you  may  go  to  him.  Think 
how  long  dear  papa  has  been  sick,  and  how  much  he  has 
suffered,  and  be  glad  that  he  is  free.  Oh,  God  !  thy  will  be 
done,"  groaned  Mrs.  Hervey,  overcome  by  the  intensity 
of  her  grief.  She  would  have  endured  willingly  all 
earthly  sufferings  if  he  could  have  been  spared  to  her. 
Penury,  destitution,  starvation,  were  nothing  to  be  en- 
dured compared  with  the  death  of  him  she  had  loved  so 
long  and  so  well.  She  felt  her  utter  desolation.  Even 
the  child  upon  her  bosom  was  forgotten  in  the  terrible 
agony  of  that  moment.  She  exclaimed  with  hysterical 
energy  :  "  Never,  never  more.  It  cannot  be  ;"  and  then 
sank  down  upon  her  pillow,  and  rested  as  if  in  tranquil 
sleep.  Anna's  weary  eye  had  begun  to  droop,  when  she  was 
startled  by  her  mother  crying  out,  "  I  cannot  breathe — give 
me  air — I'm  suffocating,"  as  she  at  the  same  time  attempted 
to  throw  off  the  covering,  and  tossed  her  arms  wildly  about. 
"  Stand  away,  stand  away  ;  help  me,  Anna  ;  will  you  let 
me  strangle  ?"  Anna  sprung  quickly  to  her  assistance, 


66         OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

loosened  her  dress,  and  after  awhile  succeeded  in  bringing 
her  oat  of  the  hysterical  paroxysm  into  which  she  had 
fallen.  She  became  composed,  and  soon  fell  asleep.  Anna 
eat  down  by  the  bed-side  and  watched  patiently  till  the  cold 
grey  light  of  morning  appeared.  She  still  sat  quietly,  fear- 
ing to  awaken  her  mother.  But,  oh,  how  her  heart  ached 
with  the  grief  that  came  swelling  up  from  its  pure  recesses, 
and  found  utterance  only  in  convulsive  but  suppressed  sobs. 
She  thought  for  a  moment  of  what  the  doctor  had  said  and 
felt  comforted  ;  but  when  it  occurred  to  her  that  he  was  a 
stranger,  that  they  had  never  met  before  the  last  night,  the 
fast-reviving  hope  died  within  her.  But  her  doubts  were 
soon  removed  ;  for  by  the  time  the  sun  had  risen,  so  that 
its  cheering  beams  fell  upon  the  floor  of  the  chamber, 
the  door  suddenly  opened,  and  the  doctor  entered.  He 
brought  in  his  hand  a  bundle  which  he  laid  on  the  table, 
Baying  : 

"  Come  here,  child,  and  eat  something  ;  a  hard  night  it's 
been  to  you,  I'll  warrant.  Too  bad,  too  bad.  Sat  right 
there  ever  since  I  left,  I  know,  my  good  girl ;  though  I 
had  no  business  to  go  away  and  leave  you.  Didn't  sleep 
any  either — might  better  have  stayed — ought  to  have 
known  better — served  me  right."  Thus  he  continued  mut- 
tering to  himself,  as  he  took  Anna  up  in  his  strong  arms  and 
Bat  down  with  her  on  his  knee,  and  opened  the  bundle  he 
had  brought. 

"  There  now,  you  must  eat  something  ;  here,  take  this." 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH     VENDOKS.  67 

Anna  hesitated  about  taking  what  was  offered,  looking  into 
his  face  for  a  moment,  and  then  glancing  towards  her 
mother.  He  understood  the  appeal,  and  added  : 

"  Eat,  eat,  child  ;  I'll  take  care  that  she  has  something 
whenever  she  needs  it.  She  don't  want  anything  now. 
Sleep  is  better  than  bread  for  her  ;  so  eat  away,"  said  he, 
seeing  Anna  eagerly  devour  the  food  that  he  had  brought 
her.  He  pressed  her  slight  form  closely  to  himself,  mentally 
resolving  that  as  long  as  he  had  anything  to  spare,  she 
should  never  again  know  hunger  and  want. 

After  he  saw  that  she  had  nearly  finished  her  meal  he 
•?aid  to  her  :  "  Now,  my  little  girl,  tell  me  your  name." 

"  Anna  Hervey,  sir." 

"  Very  well.  Have  you  any  relatives — any  aunts  or 
mcles,  or  anything  of  that  sort  ?" 

"  No,  not  one  ;  I  had  an  Uncle  William  once,  but  he's 
dead,"  said  Anna,  mournfully. 

"  Left  all  alone,  then  ;  but  how  would  you  like  to  go  and 
live  with  me  ?" 

"  And  mamma,  too  ?" 

"  Of  course  mamma  too.  God  bless  your  little  heart,  you 
don't  think  the  doctor  such  a  cruel  old  man  as  to  separate 
you  from  your  mother — do  you  ?"  said  he,  stroking  down 
her  glossy  hair  ;  "  but  death  '11  do  that  soon  enough  I 
fear." 

Getting  up  from  his  seat,  and  setting  Anna  upon  her  feet, 
he  went  and  looked  at  Mrs.  Hervey,  and  placing  his  finger 
upon  her  pulse",  shook  his  head,  as  was  his  habit  when  dis- 


68         OLD     H/LUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

turbed  in  his  mind,   or  slightly  annoyed,   and  turning  to 
Anna,  who  was  intently  watching  him,  said  : 

"  Let  her  sleep  till  I  come  back,  if  she  will  ;  but  if  she 
should  awake,  give  her  a  swallow  of  this  solution,  which  I 
will  leave  for  her.  I'll  be  back  again  soon,"  said  he,  as  he 
disappeared  through  the  door. 

He  had  been  gone  but  a  few  moments  when  Mrs.  Hervey 
awoke  and  attempted  to  rise,  but  fell  back  again,  from 
extreme  exhaustion,  on  her  pillow.  Anna  hastened  to  put 
the  draught  left  by  the  doctor  to  her  lips,  saying  : 

"  Here,  mother,  take  just  one  taste  of  this.  The  doctor 
left  it  for  you.  It  will  make  you  feel  better."  Mrs.  Hervey 
drank  of  it,  and  it  seemed  to  arouse  her  dormant  faculties, 
for  she  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  about  the  room,  saying  : 

"  The  doctor,  Anna,  where  is  he  ?" 

"  He  has  gone  again,  but  he'll  be  back  soon." 

A  gentle  tap  was  heard  at  the  door,  which  was  opened  by 
Anna,  and  there  stood  Mich.  As  he  saw  Anna,  he  sobbed 
out,  "  I  cannot  go  wid  ye  to-day,  Anna,  to  sell  the  matches  ; 
for  Jonny,  the  poor  boy,  is  almost  gone  intirely,  and  me 
mother's  takin'  on  so,  bad  luck  to  the  day  we  iver  left 
ould  Ireland." 

Anna's  tears  flowed  afresh  at  the  sight  of  another's  misery  ; 
she  could  not  speak,  but  pushing  open  the  door,  pointed  with 
one  hand  to  the  bed  on  which  lay  the  lifeless  body,  while 
with  the  other  she  grasped  convulsively  his  arm.  Mich 
comprehended  at  a  glance,  and  the  sight  of  her  troubles 
made  him  forget  his  own.  He  knew  that  he  could  offer  no 


I 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH   VENDORS.  69 

consolation,  and  he  did  not  attempt  it,  but  his  first  thought 
was  of  their  bodily  comfort. 

"  Anna,  are  ye  hungry  ?  shall  I  bring  ye  something  to 
ate  ?"  said  he  after  standing  for  a  few  moments  and  contem- 
plating the  sad  scene. 

"  No — no  !  Mich  I  am  not  hungry,  but  I  cannot  go  to- 
day either — I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do,"  said  Anna. 

"  Is  yer  mother  ailin'  ?" 

"  Yes  !  Mich.  But  the  doctor  has  given  her  some  medi 
cine,  and  she'll  be  better  soon — but  oh  !  my  dear  father. 
I  shall  never  hear  him  speak  again  ;"  and  Anna  sank  down 
on  the  floor  and  gave  way  to  her  grief.  Mich  kneeled  down 
by  her  side,  pulled  down  her  hands  from  her  face,  and  wiped 
her  eyes  with  a  corner  of  her  apron,  saying  : 

"  Now  don't  take  on  so,  Anna  ;  its  no  use,  ye  can't  change 
it — so  don't  cry  afther  that  fashin',  thry  to  kape  a  stout 
heart.  Now  dotUt  ye,  Anna,  be  takin'  on  so,"  while  the 
tears  were  slowly  trickling  down  his  own  cheek,  but  he 
heeded  them  not. 

The  sound  of  footsteps  suddenly  arrested  their  attention. 
They  started  up,  but  not  before  the  doctor  had  observed 
them — and  heard  also  Mich's  words  of  consolation.  Stop- 
ping be-fore  them  he  said  : 

"  That's  a  fact  boy — there's  no  use  of  crying,  misfortune 
and  sorrow  will  come  to  all  of  us  sooner  or  later.  But  who 
are  you  ?" 

"  I  am  Mich  Lynch,  sir." 

"  Yery  likely,  but  where  do  you  live  ?" 


70         OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Oh,  doctor,  this  is  Mich  that  went  with  me  yesterday  to 
sell  matches,  and  he  came  to  tell  me  that  he  could  not  go 
to-day,"  answered  Anna. 

"  Went  with  you  to  sell  matches  ?  Eh  !  humph  !  and  he 
can't  go  with  you  to-day  ?  No,  I'll  warrant  he  can't,  nor 
to-morrow  either." 

"  Oh  I  I  must  go  and  sell  some,  so  as  to  buy  us  something 
to  eat,"  said  Anna  earnestly. 

"  Must  ?  eh  !  Didn't  I  tell  you  about  an  old  doctor  that 
wants  just  such  a  little  girl  as  you  are  to  go  and  live  with 
him  ?  Don't  you  believe  me  ?  I  tell  you  if  you've  got  any 
more  matches  to  sell,  I'll  buy  them.  But  you  are  not  going 
into  the  street  again  to  peddle  them,  that's  sure  ;"  said  the 
doctor,  emphatically,  as  he  pushed  rapidly  by  her,  and  turn* 
ing  to  a  man  that  had  followed  him — said  as  he  beckoned 
him  to  approach,  and  speaking  in  a  low  tone.  "  There  is 
the  body,  now  do  all  decently  but  quietly."  And  the 
undertaker  advanced  to  the  bed  to  commence  his  work. 
The  noise  of  their  entering  had  aroused  Mrs.  Hervey,  and 
seeing  men  in  the  room  she  started  up.  But  the  doctor  laid 
his  hand  upon  her  shoulder  and  said  : 

"  Lie  down — you  must  keep  quiet  ;"  and  the  doctor  stood 
so  as  to  screen  from  her  view,  the  attendant,  who  busied 
himself  about  the  body. 

"  How-do  you  feel  now  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  Better — I  must  get  up." 

"  No  you  must  not — lie  still,  my  good  woman — I  will  see 
that  everything  is  attended  to." 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH     VENDORS.  71 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  have  no  money — I  cannot  pay  you.  I  have 
only  these  few  things  left  which  will  scarcely  bury  him,  and 
then " 

"Don't  talk,  of  pay,  there '11  be  time  enough  for  that 
hereafter — but  this  is  not  a  suitable  place  for  you  in  your 
present  state,  and  although  I  should  be  willing  to  leave 
matters  of  business  to  another  time,  yet  I  must  inquire  what 
are  your  intentions  for  the  future  ?" 

"  I  have  formed  no  plans  for  the  future,  as  yet,  doctor, 
nor  do  I  know  where  we  shall  go  to,  when  we  leave  this 
room  ;"  answered  Mrs.  Hervey  despairingly. 

"  It  was  for  this  very  reason  that  I  inquired,"  continued 
the  doctor,  "  Now  I  am  a  plain  sort  of  a  man,  and  may 
speak  too  bluntly  sometimes,  and  may  give  offence  where  I 
do  not  intend  it — but  I  am  in  want  of  some  one  to  take  the 
supervision  of  my  household — my  house-keeper  has  left  me, 
and  I  have  not  been  able  to  obtain  any  one  to  supply  her 
place.  If  you  would  remove  to  my  house  with  your  child 
and  accept  the  place  ;  my  doors  are  open  to  you  as  long 
as  you  may  wish  to  remain — and  you  shall  find  a  home  for 
both  of  you." 

"Oh!  Sir,  you  are  too  good.  I  should  be  glad  to  do 
anything  in  my  power,  but  I  am  afraid  we  should  become  a 
burthen  upon  you." 

"  Never  fear,  never  fear, — well,  that's  settled  then.  I  will 
see  that  everything  that  may  be  necessary  be  done  for  the 
funeral,  which  had  better  take  place  this  afternoon,  so  that 
you  and  Anna  can  go  to  my  house  before  night." 


72         OLD     II  A  U  N  ,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Must  it  be  so  soon  ?  Can  not  you  wait  till  to-morrow  ?" 
asked  she. 

"  Better  not.  You  must  not  stay  another  night  in  this 
miserable  place.  It  is  hard  to  part  with  him,  but  it  will  be 
equally  hard  to-morrow,"  replied  the  Doctor  rather  abruptly. 
He  knew  that  it  would  be  better  for  her,  in  her  then  preca- 
rious condition,  to  have  the  last  sad  rites  performed,  without 
unnecessary  delay  ;  that  until  then  there  was  little  proba- 
bility of  her  gaining.  And  although  his  manner  and  words 
might  have  appeared  harsh,  still  it  was  for  the  purpose  of 
sparing  her  any  unnecessary  suffering  that  he  desired  to 
hasten  the  burial. 

"Do  as  you  think  best.     I  leave  it  to  you." 

The  Doctor  noticing  that  the  undertaker  was  about  leav- 
ing the  room,  turned  to  Anna,  who  had  been  standing  near 
him,  since  Mich  left,  during  the  conversation,  and  said  : 

"  Anna,  sit  by  your  mother  now,  but  don't  talk  too  much, 
be  quiet,  and  I  will  send  something  up  for  her  to  eat,  and 
for  you,  too.  I  rather  think  you  must  need  something  more 
by  this  time.  I  must  go  now  and  see  some  patients,  but  I'll 
be  back  in  time  this  afternoon — remember  to  keep  quiet."  So 
saying,  their  kind-hearted  friend  left  them,  to  send  up  some 
more  nourishing  food  from  a  neighboring  restaurant.  It 
soon  appeared.  Anna's  hands  trembled  with  eagerness,  as 
she  took  the,  to  her,  rare  delicacies  from  the  somewhat  as- 
tonished man.  Hardly  waiting  for  him  to  leave,  she  ran 
eagerly  to  her  mother's  side,  exclaiming,  "  Look,  mother, 
look,  and  see  what  we  have  got — you  must  eat  now,"  and 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH     VENDORS.  73 

seating  herself,  the  two  enjoyed,  what  had  been  to  them  01 
late  a  rare  luxury — an  abundant  meal. 

After  they  had  satisfied  their  hunger,  Mrs.  Hervey  said  to 
Anna  : 

"  Come,  now,  my  daughter,  lie  down  by  me,  and  go  to 
sleep.  You  have  been  awake  all  night.  I  will  watch  by 
your  dear  father's  bed." 

"  No,  mother,  I  will  sit  by  you,  I  am  not  very  sleepy," 
said  Anna. 

"  I  am  better  now,  thanks  to  the  kind  Doctor,  and  shall 
not  need  you." 

"Will  you  call  me,  mother,  if  you  need  anything  ?" 

"  Yes.     I  will  not  get  up,"  answered  Mrs.  Hervey. 

Anna  then  laid  down  close  beside  her  mother,  and  was 
soon  in  a  quiet  slumber.  Then  Mrs.  Hervey  laid  and  pon- 
dered upon  all  the  sad  events  of  the  past  twenty-four  hours. 
Every  look,  word,  and  tone  of  the  last  moments  of  her  hus- 
band's life  came  vividly  back  to  her.  She  thanked  God  that 
he  had  raised  up  to  them,  in  this  their  hour  of  need,  a  friend, 
and  she  prayed  for  resignation  and  for  strength,  to  bear  up 
under  the  burthen  of  her  afflictions. 

Some  author  has  truly  written,  "  The  rain  falls  lightly 
upon  the  bud — rests  upon  the  bosom  of  the  flower,  and 
weighs  down  only  that  which  has  lived  its  day."  She  was 
the  crushed  and  broken  flower.  No  sun  of  happiness  or 
hope  could  ever  rise  to  lift  the  shadowy  mists  from  her  spirit. 
It  had  set,  in  clouds  and  darkness,  long  ere  her  life  had 
reached  its  noon.  She  prayed  that  her  dear  child  might 

4 


74         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

never  again  know  the  bitterness  of  this  hour.  She  prayed 
that  He,  who  giveth  food  to  the  young  ravens  which  cry, 
would  not  let  her  little  one  suffer.  Hours  passed,  and  Anna 
still  slept.  No  kind  neighbor  came  with  aid  or  consolation. 
Each  one  of  the  many  occupants  of  the  house  was  absorbed 
with  his  own  selfish  wants  and  troubles.  They  had  not  even 
sympathy  to  expend  upon  another's  woes. 

Thus  she  lay  until  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  when  the 
door  was  opened  by  a  rough-looking  man,  who,  with  the  as- 
sistance of  the  undertaker,  brought  in  a  coffin,  and  placed 
it  upon  the  table.  They  then  went  to  the  bed  and  prepared 

to  remove  the  corpse.  But  Mrs.  Hervey  stopped  them, 
saying  : 

"Not  yet — wait  but  one  moment,  I  must  see  him  once 
more." 

The  noise  they  had  made  in  entering  had  awakened  Anna, 
who  started  up  rubbing  her  eyes,  and  hardly  comprehending 
what  was  passing,  but  her  mother's  words  had  fully  aroused 
her,  and  she  said  : 

"  No,  mother,  you  can  not  get  up." 

"Yes  !  I  can,  and  must." 

"Let  me  help  you,  then,"  said  one  of  the  men  kindly. 
With  their  united  assistance  she  rose  and  tottered  to  the 
side  of  the  corpse,  opened  wide  her  tearless  eyes,  and  gazed 
for  a  moment,  and  then  fainted.  The  hearts  of  those  rough 
men  were  touched  by  her  grief — they  supported  her,  and 
took  her  gently  in  their  arms  and  laid  her  on  her  bed  ;  put 
water  to  her  lips,  and  assisted  Anna  in  her  efforts  to  revive 


THE     LITTLE     MATCU     VENDORS.  75 

her.  She  lay  for  some  time  insensible,  and  Anna  fluttered 
around  her  like  a  frightened  bird.  But  as  soon  as  consci- 
ousness returned,  she  sat  down  quietly  by  her  mother,  and 
watched  the  men  as  they  placed  all  that  was  left  of  her  be- 
loved father  in  his  narrow  tenement. 

When  they  were  about  to  fasten  the  lid,  she  started  up 
with  an  anguished  cry  : 

"  Oh,  let  me  see  him  once  more." 

"  Come,  then,  poor  thing,  but  be  quick,"  said  one. 

She  leaned  over  the  coffin,  but  tears  filled  her  eyes. 

"  Come,  child,"  said  the  undertaker. 

"  Yes,  I  am  ready  ;"  and  she  bent  over  and  pressed  her 
quivering  lips  upon  the  cold  forehead,  and  then  turned  away 
calmly  and  composedly. 

But  she  could  not  maintain  her  composure  long  ;  throw- 
ing herself  upon  the  bed  by  the  side  of  her  mother,  she 
wept  convulsively. 

"  Anna,  my  dear  child,  be  calm,"  said  Mrs.  Hervey,  as 
she  clasped  her  to  her  bosom.  Oh,  what  a  refuge  are  the 
arms  of  a  mother,  what  a  resting-place  her  bosom,  what 
love  like  hers.  "  One  God,  one  heaven,  one  mother." 

And  as  they  lay  thus  in  each  other's  arms,  the  husband 
and  father  was  borne  away  from  their  sight  forever.  In  a 
retired  nook  they  laid  him  under  the  sod,  and  the  bustle 
and  tumult  of  life  went  on  as  before. 

The  eccentric,  but  kind-hearted  doctor  had  made  suitable 
arrangements  for  a  burial-place — a  place  that  they  might 
visit.  He  had  taken  a  sudden  and  unusual  interest  in  the 


76        OLD     HATJN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

family,  but  why,  he  himself  could  not  tell.  Was  it  that,  as 
he  stood  by  the  dying  man,  and  looked  upon  his  forsaken 
family,  his  mind  recurred  to  the  time,  when  he  too  knelt 
by  a  weeping  mother's  side  to  receive  a  dying  father's  bless- 
ing ?  Was  it  because  thought  had  coursed  over  the  years 
of  privation,  toil,  and  patient  endurance  borne  by  that 
mother  to  keep  him,  her  child,  from  wretchedness  and  sin  ? 
Was  it  because,  as  he  looked  upon  Anna's  angel  face,  he 
thought  how  much  harder  it  would  be  for  her,  than  it 
had  been  for  him,  to  struggle  with  a  heartless,  selfish 
world  ? 

Whatever  may  have  been  his  thoughts,  or  the  inducement, 
he  determined  that  from  thenceforth  they  should  be  friends, 
and  inseparable.  And  after  having  personally  superin- 
tended the  interment,  he  returned,  sadly  and  musingly,  to  the 
city,  and  set  about  carrying  into  effect  the  arrangements  pro- 
posed by  himself.  He  went  to  his  own  house,  and  procured 
warm  blankets  to  protect  the  sick  woman  from  the  chill 
winds  that  were  now  whistling  through  the  streets  ;  and 
ascending  the  stairs  entered  the  room,  and  said,  in  a  quick 
tone  of  voice  : 

"  Come,  now,  we'll  move  to  my  house,  if  you  are  ready. 
Come,  my  little  girl,  move  lively,  it's  getting  dark.  Here, 
put  this  nice  warm  blanket  around  your  mother,  and  get  her 
bonnet  and  your  own." 

Anna  brought  the  browned  and  weather-beaten  straw  hat, 
that  had  served  her  mother  for  a  long  time,  and  put  it  upon 
her  head,  and  tied  it  on,  and  then  exerted  her  own  strength 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH     VENDORS.  77 

to  assist  her  mother  to  rise  and  seat  herself  upon  one  of  the 
shairs. 

"  Now,  don't  faint,  my  good  woman  ;  keep  up  if  you  can 
till  we  get  home,  and  then  you  shall  take  your  time  at  it. 
Quick,  now,  Anna,  get  your  things,  don't  keep  us  waiting," 
said  the  doctor. 

Anna  quickly  tied  on  her  bonnet,  saying,  "Now  I'm 
ready." 

"What,  without  anything  around  you  1  wrap  something 
about  you,  child,  it's  cold." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  put  on,"  said  she.  "  But  I'm  not 
cold." 

"  Well,  well,  then  come  along." 

And  they  started,  he  almost  carrying  Mrs.  Hervey.  She 
turned  and  gave  one  searching  glance  about  the  room  she 
was  leaving,  and  a  deep  sigh  escaped  her. 

The  doctor  saw  the  look,  and  said  : 

"  Cheer  up,  cheer  up  ;  you  must  not  give  way  to  grief 
any  longer.  You  have  a  child  here  who  is  dependent  upon 
you  ;  for  her  sake  try  to  overcome  your  feelings.  I  will  see 
to  the  disposition  of  the  things  that  you  have  left." 

"  Thank  you,"  was  all  she  could  say.  They  descended 
the  long  stairs,  up  which  they  had  so  often  toiled,  with 
heavy  hearts,  and  entered  the  carriage  which  the  doctor  had 
provided  to  carry  them  to  their  new  abode.  After  passing 
through  several  streets  they  reached  the  plain  and  substan- 
tial residence  of  the  doctor,  and,  on  the  stopping  of  the 
carriage,  the  door  was  opened  by  a  tidy-looking  Irish  ser- 


78         OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

vant,  who  seemed  to  have  been  on  the  look-out.  She 
came  forward  to  assist  in  supporting  Mrs.  Hervey  into  the 
house.  How  different  the  scene  from  that  which  they  had 
left  1 

A  cheerful  fire  was  burning  in  the  grate,  which  shed  a 
pleasant  light  and  warmth  throughout  the  room.  The  doc- 
tor hurried  about  to  see  that  everything  was  in  order,  first 
here  and  then  there. 

"  Biddy,"  he  called,  "  get  a  pillow.  Have  you  got  the  tea 
ready  as  I  told  you  ?  Hurry  yourself  now  and  get  a 
light.  What  are  you  in  the  dark  for  ?  Didn't  I  tell  you  to 
have  all  things  in  order.  Where's  the  tea  ?  Get  a  cup 
quick.  It  will  do  her  a  world  of  good." 

"  The  tay  is  all  ready,  sir.  Eight  here  upon  the  table, 
sir." 

"  That's  right,  bring  some  along  and  give  it  to  Mrs.  Her- 
vey. You  must  eat,"  he  said,  turning  to  Mrs.  Hervey,  "  or 
you'll  never  get  strength.  Come,  Anna,  we'll  eat  our  supper 
while  Biddy  waits  upon  your  mother.  Here,  give  me  that 
old  bonnet,"  and  taking  it  from  her  hands,  he  gave  it  a  toss 
and  it  was  soon  blazing  upon  the  grate. 

"  Oh,  my  bonnet !  save  it ;  it's  the  only  one  I've  got," 
exclaimed  Anna,  in  terror  rushing  towards  the  fire. 

"  Well,  I  should  hope  it  was.  I  shouldn't  want  many 
such.  Let  it  burn,  let  it  burn,"  said  the  doctor,  chuckling, 
who  felt  so  happy  that  he  could  hardly  restrain  himself. 

"  It  was  a  good  bonnet,"  said  Anna,  tearfully. 

"  Yes  ;  I  suppose  it  was  a  good  one  once,  a  great  while 


THE     LITTLE     MATCH     VENDEES.  79 

ago,  but  we'll  see,  to-morrow,  if  we  can't  find  a  better  one. 
Corne  give  me  a  kiss  now,  and  to-morrow  we'll  have  the 
prettiest  bonnet  on  Broadway.  You  don't  think  I'd  let  my 
little  girl  wear  such  a  thing  ;  do  you  ?  Nonsense." 

While  the  Doctor  and  Anna  were  taking  their  meal,  Mrs. 
Hervey  sat  and  mused.  She  wondered  what  sudden  impulse 
had  induced  him  to  become  her  friend.  She  pondered  upon 
the  events  of  the  last  few  hours.  She  now  saw  about  her 
comfort  and  abundance.  But  a  short  time  since,  she  suf- 
fered misery  and  want ;  all  seemed  to  her  more  like  a  dream 
than  a  reality.  And  she  was  thankful  that  she  had  found  a 
shelter,  even  although  a  temporary  one,  from  the  storms  of 
adversity. 

After  they  had  finished,  and  Biddy  had  cleared  away  the 
things,  Mrs.  Hervey  said  : 

"  You  have  taken  a  great  deal  upon  yourself,  Doctor  in 
bringing  us  here,  and  I  fear  we  shall  burthen  you.  But  God 
only  knows  how  thankful  I  shall  be  for  a  refuge  until  I  shall 
become  well  enough  to  find  some  means  of  supporting  my- 
self and  Anna." 

"  Humph  !  with  your  leave,  we'll  let  that  matter  rest  for 
to-night.  We  can  talk  over  to-morrow  about  means  of 
supporting  yourself.  Now,  you  must  go  to  bed  and  to 
sleep." 

At  this  moment  the  door-bell  rang,  and  Biddy  announced 
a  call  for  the  doctor.  "  Heigh  ho,"  he  sighed  as  he  went  out, 
T  wish  they  would  let  me  alone  this  evening." 

He  was  absent  for  a  moment  and  then  re-entered,  and 


80         OLD     n  A  U  N  ,      THE      PAWNBROKER. 

throwing  open  the  doors  of  a  room  adjoining  the  one  in 
which  they  sat,  said  : 

"  I  must  go  away  now,  but  here  is  a  room  that  you  and 
Anna  can  occupy.  I  have  never  had  any  use  for  it,  but  it  is 
iust  the  room  for  you." 

"  Biddy,  did  you  fix  up  the  room  as  I  told  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  As  well  as  I  could  in  the  short  time  you  gave 
me,  sir." 

"  Well  !  well !  what  there  is  wanting  to-night  we'll  make 
up  to-morrow  ;  yon  san  help  Mrs.  Hervey  to  bed  now,  and 
see  that  everything  is  supplied.  For  I  must  be  off." 

Biddy  and  Anna  helped  Mrs.  Hervey  into  the  next  room, 
and  into  the  bed  prepared  for  her,  and  Anna  laid  beside 
her  and  both  soon  slept. 

Mrs.  Hervey,  after  the  sad  events  of  the  day,  turned  rest- 
lessly on  her  bed,  and  her  mind  wandered.  Present  and 
future  were  as  nothing.  She  dreamed  of  the  past.  She 
was  a  girl  again — a  simple  girl  in  her  own  native  home, 
and  she  roamed  through  the  old  maple  grove  with  the 
schoolmaster  by  her  side,  while  the  fresh  breeze  of  Spring 
fanned  her  cheek.  The  schoolmaster,  and  then  the  lover, 
and  then  again  the  husband.  But  the  dream  changed,  and 
with  a  start  she  awoke,  and  consciousness  brought  the  stern, 
sorrowful  reality.  She  slept  again,  and  again  her  wandering 
thoughts  brought  back  the  joys  and  sc?rows  of  the  past. 
Thus  wore  away  the  night. 

But  the  sleep  of  childhood  was  undisturbed.  Anna  slum- 
bered on  as  quietly  and  placidly  as  though  she  had  never 
known  either  anxiety  or  grief. 


THESEAKCH.  81 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE   SEARCH. 

"  WELL,  old  fellow,  here  I  am  again  ;  sooner  than  you 
expected  !  eh  ?  Now  for  the  watch  1  There's  the  money," 

said  Cornell,  in  his  usual  blustering  manner,  as  he  walked 

I 
into  the  pawnbroker's  shop  and  laid  on  the  counter  a  number 

of  bills. 

"Ah  ! — yes  ! — your  watch,"  said  Haun,  hesitatingly. 

"  Yes,  my  watch." 

"  But  I  thought  you  wanted  the  money  for  a  month." 

"Well !  supposing  you  did,  you  find  now,  that  I  want  it 
only  for  ten  days,  so  count  the  money  and  stir  yourself." 

"  But  the  interest — I  must  hare  something  for  my  trouble. 
I  shall  have  to  charge  you  the  same  as  if  you  had  kept  the 
money  for  the  whole  month." 

"  Oh  1  hang  the  interest,  take  it  and  count  away — or  if 
you  can't  I  will — look  !  now.  Is  that  a  V.  ?  look  sharp.  Is 
that  an  X.,  and  that,  and  that,  and  that,  and  that  too  ?" 
said  Cornell,  without  waiting  for  an  answer  as  he  rapidly 
shuffled  off  the  notes,  and  threw  them  towards  Haun,  till  he 

4* 


82         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

had  called  off  the  whole  amount.     "  There,  is  that  enough 
to  pay  you  ?     If  it  is,  then  produce  that  chronometer." 

"You've  brought  your  ticket  with  you,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  I  hare — here  it  is,  No.  3,051." 

"  All  right,  here's  your  watch." 

"  But  what  trash  have  you  here  in  this  case  ?"  said 
Cornell,  glancing  carelessly  around  the  room,  as  he  put  the 
watch  in  his  pocket,  and  observing  the  case  of  rings,  pins, 
chains,  and  other  articles  glitteringly  displayed.  He  went 
towards  them,  and  turned  the  articles  over  carelessly. 

Haun  advanced  and  said,  "  There  are  some  valuable 
things  there.  Perhaps  you'd  like  some  of  them  ?" 

"None  that  I  see  ;"  answered  Cornell. 

"  Here's  a  miniature  that  I've  just  bought,  finely  mounted, 
and  if  I  am  any  judge  of  painting,  it  was  done  by  a  master. 
None  of  your  common  daubs." 

"  Very  likely,"  answered  Cornell,  without  looking  up. 

"  You  don't  often  meet  with  a  chance  to  get  such  a  fine 
painting  cheap — to  say  nothing  of  the  handsome  face,"  per- 
sisted Haun,  and  laid  the  miniature  which  he  had  purchased 
of  Anna,  on  the  counter  before  Cornell.  The  latter  took  it 
in  his  hand,  looked  at  it  for  a  moment,  and  then  said  with 
eagerness. 
•  "  Where  did  you  get  this  ?" 

"  I  bought  it,  where  do  you  suppose  ?" 

"  When  and  where  ?" 

"  Here,  in  this  very  place,  not  ten  days  since." 

"  Who  brought  it  ?  tell  me  quick." 


THE     SEARCH.  83 

"  Well,  that's  a  good  deal  more  than  I  know." 

"  You  do  know  ;  once  more  I  say  who  brought  it  ?" 

"  Is  it  any  of  your  business  where  I  got  it,  or  who  brought 
it  ?  If  you've  any  claims  upon  it,  make  them  known,  I  don't 
believe  its  stolen  goods." 

"  Tell  me  who  brought  it !"  shouted  Cornell,  becoming 
red  with  anger,  as  he  thought  Haun  was  trying  for  some 
private  purpose  of  his  own,  to  deceive  him. 

"  You  needn't  speak  so  loud,  I  am  not  deaf,  and  more 
than  that  you  needn't  try  to  frighten  me,  I've  lived  too  long 
in  this  world  to  be  easily  scared  ;  but  as  you  seem  to  have 
some  sudden  fancy  for  this  trinket,  and  for  learning  some- 
thing about  it,  perhaps  I  might  give  you  some  information, 
for  a  proper  consideration  of  course,  but  don't  get  excited." 

Cornell  stopped  and  stood  a  moment  gazing  at  Haun — 
his  first-  impulse  had  been  to  grasp  him  by  the  throat,  but 
then  he  reflected  that  possibly  fortune  had  discovered  to  him 
the  first  link  in  the  chain  of  circumstances,  which  was  to 
lead  him  to  success,  in  a  search  which  he  had  undertaken 
for  another,  and  in  which  he  had  hitherto  made  no  progress. 
He  thought  that  Haun  was  possessed  of  information,  which 
was  very  important,  and  that  he  must  obtain  it  now  or  per- 
haps lose  it  forever.  He  therefore,  endeavored  to  suppress 
his  anger,  and  said  with  an  appearance  of  calmness  : 

"  Haun,  you  are  fond  of  money,  I  have  not  a  great  deal 
to  spare  at  present,  but  circumstances  which  I  need  not 
mention,  render  it  important  that  I  should  know  who  brought 
this  locket  here.  Name  your  price,  and  tell  me." 


84         OLD     HAUN,     THE     FAWNBEOKEE. 

"  As  sure  as  tliere  's  a  God  in  Israel,  I  don't  know  who 
brought  it  here.  It  was  a  little  girl.  I  never  saw  her  be- 
fore." 

"  When  was  it  ?" 

"  The  same  morning,  or  the  morning  after  you  brought 
your  watch." 

"  It  must  be  her,  and  no  other — curse  my  luck.  She  here, 
and  almost  standing  by  my  very  side,  and  I  hunting  this  city 
over  for  her  in  vain.  What  sort  of  a  looking  girl,  and  how 
old  was  she  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  was  a  mere  child — nine  or  ten  years  old,  I 
should  think.  There  was  an  Irish  boy  with  her  ;  but  I  don't 
know  where  they  came  from,  or  which  way  they  went." 

"  That  locket  can't  have  gone  out  of  the  family.  There 
is  no  mistake  about  it.  Perhaps  she  will  come  again  to  re- 
deem it." 

"  No,  I  bought  it  of  her.  I  will  sell  it  to  you,  if  you 
want  it  so  much." 

"  I  do  want  it.     How  much  do  you  ask  for  it  ?" 

"  Twenty-five  dollars." 

"  Twenty-five  dollars  is  a  pretty  large  price  for  such  a 
trinket,  considering  that  it  is  an  old  one.  You  didn't  pay 
over  the  half  of  that  ?" 

"  It  cost  me  just  twenty  dollars,  and  I  got  it  cheap,  too  ; 
but,  seeing  that  you  seem  to  be  anxious  to  get  it,  I  offer  it 
to  you  at  a  very  low  rate.  You  can  have  it  for  twenty-five, 
and  no  less." 

"  Very  well,  I'll  tako  it.    But  if  the  child  who  brought  it 


THE     SEARCH.  85 

here  should  come  again,  I  wish  you  would  manage  to  detain 
her,  until  you  can  send  word  to  me  at  the  Astor  House  ;  I 
will  pay  you  well  for  your  trouble." 

"  What  do  you  call  well  ?"  asked  Haun. 

"  I  will  pay  you  at  a  rate,  that  even  you  will  be  satisfied 
with.  Is  that  enough  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  if  you  will  now  undertake  to  find  out  where  she 
lives,  I'll  engage  that  you  shall  receive  any  reasonable  price 
that  you  can  possibly  ask." 

"  I  will  do  it ;  but  I  should  like  to  know  what  you  want 
of  her." 

"  That  need  not  concern  you — some  family  matter,  possi- 
bly— but  we  have  made  our  bargain.  You  keep  your  part 
of  it,  and  I  will  mine." 

"  Never  fear — there  's  money  to  be  made.  But  will  you 
take  this  picture  now  ?" 

"  Yes,  now — there  is  your  money.  But  I  did  not  ask  you 
if  she  told  her  name  ;  probably  not." 

"But  she  did,  though.  I  asked  her  name,  and  she  said  it 
was  Merwin  or  Derwin,  or  something  like  it.  No  !  let  me 
think,"  said  Haun,  meditatively.  "  Hervey  !  that's  it — 
that's  the  name." , 

"It  is  the  one,  by  Jove.  Haun,  do  you  want  to  make 
your  fortune  ?  I  know  you  do  ;  find  that  girl,  and  it's 
made.  Not  that  I  care  so  much  myself  about  it — in  fact 
it's  somewhat  against  my  interest  to  have  her  found, — but 
there  are  others  who  are  able  and  willing  to  pay  for  it,  and 


86         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

they'll  do  it,  too.  Only  find  that  girl,  and  you're  a  lucky 
man." 

"  I  will  do  it,  if  she's  above  ground,"  said  Haun,  as  Cor- 
nell turned  to  leave.  The  latter  stopped  at  the  door,  merely 
to  remark  : 

"  I  shall  be  around  again  in  a  short  time  ;  and  mind  and 
be  active,  so  as  to  earn  the  money." 

After  Cornell  departed,  the  pawnbroker  counted  over  the 
money  that  he  had  received,  muttering  : 

"  Good !  twenty  dollars  clear  profit.  He's  after  that 
girl,  eh!  I  wonder  why  he's  so  anxious.  There's  some- 
thing about  it  that  I  don't  understand.  Poor  folks  are  not 
ordinarily  so  scarce,  that  they'll  bring  such  a  price.  Yes, 
I'll  go  to  work  and  find  her  ;  but  I  must  make  well  out  of 
it.  But,  he's  looking  for  her,  too.  If  he  should  happen  to 
come  across  her  first,  then  my  game's  up.  I'll  go  to  work, 
at  once.  I'll  go  now,"  added  Haun,  as  he  engaged  him- 
self in  arranging  his  wares.  After  having  done  this,  and 
carefully  locked  his  door,  he  took  his  way  down  Chatham 
street,  towards  Broadway,  stopping  wherever  he  saw  a 
crowd  of  children  together  to  scrutinize  their  features,  and 
then  went  slowly  along. 

After  reaching  Broadway  and  traversing  it  a  short  dis- 
tance, he  turned  down  Anthony  street,  where,  for  some  rea- 
son, he  thought  he  should  be  successful  in  his  search.  He 
endeavored  to  recall  the  name  of  the  boy  that  had  accom- 
panied Anna,  but  failed  to  do  so.  Still  he  felt  confident  he 
should  know  either  of  the  children,  if  he  should  once  again 


THESEARCH.  87 

see  them.  But  his  wanderings  that  afternoon  were  produc- 
tive of  no  good  results  ;  for  after  peering  about  for  several 
hours,  in  the  dirty  alleys  and  filthy  tenements,  which  in  for- 
mer days  loomed  darkJv  and  gloomily  up  in  that  part  of 
the  city,  he  returned  in  a  very  unpleasant  humor  to  his 
shop. 

Withdrawing  into  the  cheerless  recess  that  served  as 
counting-room,  chamber,  and  kitchen,  and  which  was,  in 
fact,  as  already  remarked,  the  only  home  he  had,  he  made 
his  supper  off  a  dried  herring  and  a  few  crackers,  and  after 
finishing  and  clearing  away  the  fragments  of  his  banquet, 
he  found  that  it  had  become  quite  dark,  and  so  returned  to 
his  shop,  and  lighted  the  solitary  lamp,  that  swung  dimly 
in  the  darkness,  like  the  waning  moon  in  a  fog.  He  knew 
well  enough  that  his  shop  needed  none  of  the  allurements 
of  brilliant  lights,  nor  the  glare  of  gilded  mirrors  to  attract 
those  who  came  to  visit  him. 

His  constant  thought  now  was,  of  the  ways  and  means  of 
finding  the  child,  for  the  prospect  of  gain  made  him  deter- 
mined to  succeed,  and  he  had  a  curiosity  to  learn  why  Cor- 
nell was  so  anxious  to  find  her.  He  suspected  that  there 
was  something  beneath  the  surface  which  Cornell  was 
unwilling  to  disclose.  In  fine,  he  resolved  to  fathom  the 
mystery  and  make  himself  master  of  the  secret,  whatever  it 
might  be.  The  gratification  of  the  twin  passions,  avarice 
and  curiosity,  urged  him  on. 

The  next  morning,  as  soon  as  he  supposed  the  miserable 
creatures  who  lived  in  B street  would  be  stirring,  he 


88         OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

_,  i 

started  out  again  on  his  search.  He  fancied  somehow  that 
they  must  be  in  the  neighborhood,  for  it  was  the  abode  of  a 
great  many  of  those  who,  forced  by  poverty  to  seek  cheap 
lodgings,  were  yet  not  vicious,  and  therefore  shunned  the 
contaminated  quarters  of  the  city.  His  encounter  with 
Mich  had  fixed  indelibly  upon  his  mind  the  features  of  the  boy, 
while  he  felt  certain  that  he  should  recognize  in  an  instant 
the  face  of  the  girl.  Besides,  his  mental  faculties  had  been  so 
sharpened  by  his  occupation,  that  he  never  forgot  a  coun- 
tenance. He  had  wandered  up  and  down  the  street  for  a 
long  tune  in  vain,  and  it  was  getting  late  in  the  day.  He 
would  not  have  followed  the  pursuit  so  constantly  and 
eagerly,  but  he  feared  that  Cornell  might  be  engaged  on  -die 
same  errand  or  might  have  engaged  others  for  the  purpose, 
and  he  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  losing  a  prize,  which 
he  considered  in  fact  already  in  his  grasp.  He  had  also  the 
advantage  of  Cornell  in  having  once  seen  the  girl.  He 
therefore  persevered,  but  as  the  morning  advanced,  he 
thought  best  to  return  to  his  shop  to  attend  to  the  regular 
business  of  the  day,  and  so  he  gloomily  withdrew.  But  in  the 
afternoon,  as  soon  as  the  pressure  of  business  would  permit, 
and  even  much  before  his  usual  tune  of  closing,  he  again 
started  out,  resolving  not  to  return  to  light  up  during  the 
evening,  but  to  continue  his  labors,  for  he  felt  convinced 
that  it  was  in  that  neighborhood  that  his  search  was  to  be 
crowned  with  success.  He  wandered  as  before,  up  and 
down  the  streets,  scrutinizing  the  features  of  every  child  that 
passed  him,  until  the  evening  had  well-nigh  worn  away, 


THE      SEARCH.  89 

when  his  attention  was  attracted  towards  a  poorly-clad  boy 
who  came  whistling  carelessly  along.  He .  stopped  and 
looked — approached  a  little,  and  looked  again.  Could  he 
be  mistaken.  It  was  Mich.  Haun  turned  so  as  to  meet 
him  in  order  that  he  might  make  quite  sure,  and  that  there 
might  be  no  appearance  of  design  in  the  action,  he  allowed 
Mich  to  pass  him,  and  then  wheeling  suddenly  around,  as  if 
from  a  sudden  impulse  cried  out : 

"  Here,  my  boy,  stop  a  minute — don't  you  know  me  ? 
how've  you  been?"  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he 
grasped  Mich's  arm,  and  continued,  "  you  came  with  the 
little  girl  to  sell  the  locket,  didn't  you  ?" 

"  Indade  an'  I  did — an'  I've  not  forgotten  ye,  nor  the 
plisant  falin'  of  yer  delicate  fingers  around  me  throat  ather," 
answered  Mich,  in  a  voice  and  tone  that  evidenced  but  little 
pleasure  in  a  renewal  of  the  acquaintance. 

"  Did  it  hurt  you  ?"  asked  Haun  with  a  grin. 

"  You'd  best  belave  it  did,"  answered  Mich  indignantly. 

"  Well  !  well  1  you  mustn't  bear  malice.  By  the  way, 
what  did  you  say  your  name  was." 

"  Prehaps  I  didn't  say  at  all ;  but  its  Mich  Lynch  if  it  any- 
ways concarns  ye  to  know." 

"  Ah,  yes,  Mich  Lynch,  do  you  live  about  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  jist  forninst  the  corner  there." 

"  Well,  Mich,  I  was  waiting  for  a  friend,  and  I  thought  I 
knew  you  as  I  passed.  I  suppose  you  want  to  be  going 
home  ;  so  good  night,  Mich,"  said  Haun,  in  the  kindest  man- 
ner, and  started  on,  but  before  Mich  had  had  time  to  turn 


90         OLD     H  A  U  N  ,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

around,  Haun  stopped  suddenly  and  called  to  him.  Was- 
n't there  a  little  girl  with  you,  Mich,  when  you  came  to  sell 
the  locket.  Her  father  was  sick.  Is  he  better  now  ?" 

"No  !"  answered  Mich  sadly,  "  he's  dead." 

"  Poor  man !    and  where  does  she  live  now  ?" 

"  Jist  what  I'd  be  afther  findin'  out  meself  if  I  could;  I've 
not  seen  her  blessed  face  this  many  a  long  day." 

"  Where  was  she  the  last  time  you  saw  her  ?" 

"  Up  in  her  home,  to  be  sure." 

"  Where  was  that  ?" 

"  Over  on  G  —  strate." 

"  Are  you  sure  they  are  not  there  now  ?" 

"  Is  it  sure  that  I  am,  and  meself  been  speerin'  around 
like  a  ghost,  from  mornin'  till  night  to  get  a  sight  of  her  ?" 

"  Come  and  show  me  where  they  lived." 

"  Faith  an'  that's  easily  done,"  said  Mich,  starting  off  with 
the  pawnbroker.  He  went  the  more  willingly  as  he  saw 
the  anxiety  of  the  pawnbroker  to  discover  her,  and  hoped 
through  his  means  to  be  able  himself  once  more  to  find 
her.  As  they  came  to  a  dilapidated  and  smoky  tenement, 
Mich  skipped  up  the  stab's,  closely  followed  by  his  companion. 
They  reached  the  attic,  and  Mich  pushed  open  the  door,  but 
all  was  dark,  vacant,  and  cold. 

"  There,  sir,  ye  see,  there's  not  a  soul  there,"  said  Mich, 
stepping  back. 

"  How  many  of  them  were  there  ?"  inquired  the  pawn- 
broker, as  he  gazed  into  the  room. 

"  Only  three,  and  the  father's  dead  intirely." 


THESEARCH.  91 

"  Perhaps  we  can  find  out  by  some  of  the  people  in  the 
house  where  they  went  to,"  said  Haun. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  I've  thried  it  meself.  Sorry  a  one  knows 
anything  about  them." 

"  I'll  try  at  any  rate.  But  what  have  you  been  looking 
after  them  for  ?"  inquired  Haun. 

"  I'm  lookin'  afther  them,  because  they  are  me  frinds,  and 
have  seen  throuble  like  myself." 

"  Well,  what  could  you  do  for  them,  supposing  you  could 
find  them  ?"  continued  Haun,  sneeringly. 

"  Troth,  an'  there's  nothing  under  the  blessed  light  of 
Heaven  that  I  wouldn't  do  for  thim,  thin,"  answered  Mich 
indignantly. 

Haun  did  not  reply,  but  went  along  to  a  door,  and  opening 
it  thrust  his  head  in  and  said  : 

"  My  good  woman,  can  you  tell  me  anything  about  the 
that  lived  above  you  here  ?" 

"  The  man  that  died  of  consumption  last  week  ?"  answered 
a  coarse  woman  in  a  rough  voice. 

"  Yes,  that's  the  one." 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  I  didn't  follow  after  him  to  the 
grave." 

"  But  the  others — can't  you  tell  where  they  went  ?" 

"  No,  I  have  my  own  brats  and  business  to  mind, 
and  don't  meddle  with  other's  affairs.  But  my  Bill  said 
that  he  seed  them  go  off  with  a  man  after  dusk,  and  the 
next  mornin'  a  cart  came  and  took  off  their  things  ;  and 
precious  few  things  they  had  too." 


92         OLD     HATJN,     THE     PAWNBBOKEB. 

"  Didn't  you  hear  them  say  where  they  were  going-  ?" 
persisted  Haun." 

"  I've  told  you  all  I  know  about  it  and  shan't  tell  you 
anything  more,"  answered  the  woman,  as  she  turned  away. 
The  pawnbroker  inquired  of  others,  but  with  like  success. 
All  that  he  could  learn  was  that  they  went  away  in  the  even- 
ing with  some  person.  No  one  knew  who,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  without  learning  anything  farther.  But  he 
felt  that  he  had  been  as  successful  as  he  could  reasonably 
expect.  He  had  discovered  Mich,  and  doubted  not  through 
him  to  hunt  up  the  girl.  He  felt  that  he  had  sowed  the 
seed  of  success  which  with  proper  attention  would  germin- 
ate and  ripen  into  full  fruition. 

Therefore,  as  they  were  about  parting  he  said  to  Mich  : 

"  Mich  would  you  like  to  earn  something  ?" 

"  Indade  an'  I  should,  sir." 

"  Well  !  I'll  give  you  a  chance  ;  come  to  me  early  hi 
the  morning." 

"  I'll  not  fail,  sir." 

As  soon  as  the  stores  of  the  city  were  opened  in  the  morn- 
ing Mich  made  his  way  to  the  pawnbroker's  shop  and  stood 
impatiently  waiting  to  learn  in  what  manner  he  was  to  be 
employed,  while  Haun  was  engaged  in  taking  down  the 
shutters,  and  arranging  his  place  of  business  for  the  day. 

After  he  had  finished  these  duties,  he  turned  around,  and 
seeing  Mich,  said  abruptly  : 

"  So  you're  here." 

"  Yes  sir,  and  are  ye  ready  to  tdl  me  what  ye'd  like  ma 
to  do  ?" 


THESEAKCH.  93 

"  Of  course,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  want  of  you — the  little 
girl  that  we  were  speaking  of  last  night,  and  who  came  with 
you  to  sell  the  locket  ;  let  me  think,  what's  her  name  ?" 

"  Hervey,"  suggested  Mich,  "  Anna  Hervey." 

"  Ah,  yes!  Hervey,  that's  the  name — has  got  a  friend  that 
wants  to  find  her.  He  has  written  to  me  to  seek  her  out  ; 
perhaps  he  wants  her  to  live  with  him,  so  that  he  may  take 
care  of  her.  Now,  as  I  want  to  oblige  him,  I'll  give  you 
something  handsome  to  discover  where  she  is.  I'll  give  you, 
let  me  think,  I'll  give  you  a  quarter." 

"  A  whole  quarter  of  a  dollar  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mich,  a  whole  quarter  of  a  dollar.  I  guess  that's 
more  than  you've  had  in  a  long  time,"  said  Haun,  who 
began  to  regret  having  made  so  liberal  an  offer,  and  to 
wonder  whether  a  shilling  would  not  have  done  quite  as 
well.  However,  he  determined  to  remedy  his  indiscretion 
whenever  pay  day  should  come,  and  so  said  :  "  Well,  now 
be  off,  but  remember,  if  you  learn  anything  of  her  to  tell  no 
one  but  me." 

Mich  was  off  as  soon  as  Haun  had  finished  speaking.  He 
ran  home  to  his  mother,  and  told  her  of  what  he  considered 
his  good  luck — to  get  pay  for  finding  Anna  Hervey.  Just 
the  thing  he  was  himself  anxious  to  do,  with  or  without 
pay  ;  and  then  he  commenced  his  search.  Up  and  down  he 
wandered  through  the  cold  and  dreary  day  ;  after  thinking 
he  saw  her  in  the  distance,  and  as  often  disappointed. 
Night  came  on,  and  he  had  accomplished  nothing.  Cold, 
hungry,  an  1  discouraged,  he  returned  to  his  mother  and  to 
his  home.  But  she  had  been  more  fortuoate,  for  she  had 


94.         OLD      HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

obtained  something  for  them  to  eat ;  without  this  providen- 
tial provision  he  would  have  gone  supperless  to  bed. 

During  the  sickness  of  Jonny,  Mrs.  Lynch  had  sat  and 
nursed  him  constantly,  and  would  have  suffered  from  hun- 
ger, had  not  some  of  her  kind-hearted  countrywomen  sup- 
plied her  wants.  But  this  they  could  not  continue  to  do, 
for  it  was  a  difficult  matter  at  all  times  for  them  to  pro- 
vide for  themselves  alone,  without  sharing  with  others. 
And  therefore,  as  soon  as  Jonny  had  somewhat  recovered, 
they  tendered  their  services  one  after  the  other  so  as  to 
partially  divide  the  burthen,  in  taking  care  of  him  while  his 
mother  might  be  out,  endeavoring  to  earn  something  for 
their  support.  She  had  sought  in  vain  for  work  ;  no  one 
had  any  for  her  or  was  willing  to  employ  her  ;  until  on  the 
day  of  Mich's  engagement  by  the  pawnbroker,  she  had 
chanced  to  obtain  some  menial  employment,  and  with  a 
willing  heart  had  endeavored  to  do  her  best.  Being,  how- 
ever, unaccustomed  to  the  kind  of  work,  she  had  not  given 
perfect  satisfaction  ;  but  her  sad  face  had  interested  the 
lady  by  whom  she  was  engaged,  and  she  therefore,  after 
making  some  inquiries,  had  paid  her  two  shillings,  and 
desired  her  to  come  again  the  next  day.  Mrs.  Lynch  felt 
grateful  for  the  pittance  she  had  received,  and  although 
worn  out  in  body,  returned  with  a  light  heart  to  her  home, 
to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  her  own  toil.  Four  hours  of  severe 
labor  for  two  shillings  ;  but  she  was  a  woman  !  Yet,  who 
among  the  opposite  sex  would  have  toiled  as  she  had  for  the 
paltry  recompense  of  two  shillings  ?  even  the  wood  sawyer 


THE      SEARCH.  95 

wouid  scorn  it.  Fortunately  there  were  but  few  mouths  to 
fill,  but  how  often  has  the  poor  widow  to  provide  food,  shel- 
ter, and  clothing  for  a  family  of  from  four  to  six  children 
out  of  fifty  cents  per  day. 

Let  those  who  spend  their  time  sitting  in  counsel  upon 
the  fancied  wrongs  of  their  own  sex,  give  their  attention  to 
the  real  burthens  borne  by  them,  and  their  time  would  be 
well  spent,  and  their  exertions  rewarded  by  the  blessings  of 
the  fatherless  and  the  widow. 

Let  those  who  claim  for  their  own  sex,  rights  which  God 
and  Nature  never  designed  for  them,  and  who  waste  their 
means  and  sympathies  upon  imagined  sufferings,  look  upon 
the  stern  and  cruel  realities  of  life,  and  devote  their  wealth 
to  succoring  the  needy,  feeding  the  hungry,  clothing  the 
destitute,  ministering  to  the  sick,  and  they  shall  find  no 
longer  a  necessity  for  drawing  upon  their  imagination  for 
subjects  of  charity. 

There  is  many  a  poor  woman  who,  like  Mrs.  Lynch,  would 
gladly  provide  for  the  wants  and  comforts  of  her  family, 
had  she  the  sinew  and  strength  to  wear  out  in  doing  so. 

The  two  shillings  so  hardly  earned  barely  provided  her- 
self and  Mich,  and  the  still  suffering  Jonny,  with  sufficient  to 
satisfy  their  hunger  for  the  night,  and  something  for  their 
breakfast.  A  fire  they  were  not  able  to  have,  but  ate  their 
supper  with  chilled  hands,  and  then  wrapped  them  in  their 
scanty  blankets,  and  went  to  sleep.  But  little  was  left  to 
them.  The  contents  of  their  once  well-filled  chest  had 
gradually  gone  into  v.he  hands  of  the  pawnbroker,  for  the 


96         OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

purpose  of  obtaining  money  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  their 
landlord  ;  and  now,  if  they  should  not  be  able  at  once  to 
earn  something  by  getting  employment,  they  would  be  forced 
to  resign  even  the  miserable  shelter  that  they  had.  But 
Mrs.  Lynch's  good  fortune  cheered  their  sad  hearts,  and 
they  went  to  sleep  that  night  with  hopes  of  a  brighter 
future. 

With  the  first  light  of  morning  they  were  awake  and  up, 
and  their  breakfast  having  been  dispatched,  they  were  on 
their  way  to  the  place  of  the  previous  day's  labor.  Mich 
accompanied  his  mother,  for  he  wanted  to  learn  where  she 
was  engaged,  and  thought  possibly  he  might  find  also  some- 
thing to  do.  But  he  soon  found  that  his  presence  was  not 
desired,  for  the  lady  of  the  house  said  she  didn't  want  any 
children  about,  so  he  bade  his  mother  good  bye,  and  went 
away.  She  whispered  to  him  :  "  Mich,  darlint,  mind  Jonny 
as  much  as  ye  can,  and  come  here  at  noon  and  I'll  give  ye  a 
part  of  me  own  dinner  for  yerself  and  him." 

Mich  went  away,  and  commenced  again  his  search,  keep- 
ing on  the  look  out  all  of  the  time  for  a  chance  to  turn  an 
honest  penny.  He  had  wandered  into  Broadway,  and  stood 
looking  about,  when  a  gentleman  in  a  single  carriage  drove 
up  to  the  sidewalk  near  to  where  he  stood,  and  jumping  out 
called  to  Mich  : 

"  Here,  my  boy,  hold  my  horse  a  minute  ;  won't  you  ?" 

"  Thank  ye,  sir,"  said  Mich,  springing  eagerly  forward 
The  gentleman  left  him  and  passed  through  an  adjoining 
door.  He  was  gone  for  a  long  time,  but  Mich  stood  quietly 


T  H  E     8  E  A  K  C  H  .  97 

holding  the  bridle  and  waiting  for  the  return  of  the  owner. 
The  gentleman  who  had  observed,  from  the  window  of  the 
office  where  he  was,  Mich's  care  of  the  animal,  was  pleased 
with  him,  and  when  he  came  down  to  enter  his  carriage 
said : 

"What  is  your  name ?" 

"Mich  Lynch,  yer  honor,"  answered  Mich,  at  the  same 
tune  touching  his  cap. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  and  what  do  you  do  ?" 

"  I  live  with  me  mother,  and  do  anything  that  I  can 
get  to  do  that's  honest." 

"  Do  you  like  horses  ?" 

"  I  can't  be  afther  sayin'  till  I've  tried." 

"  Would  you  like  to  take  care  of  my  horse  ?" 

"  In  coorse  I  would  if  ye'd  shew  me  how,  and  pay  me  for 
doin'  it," 

"Well,  jump  up  here  then  and  we'll  settle  the  matter  by 
and  by,  I'm  in  a  hurry  now." 

The  gentleman  entered  his  carriage,  and  at  his  beck,  Mich 
climbed  nimbly  up,  and  seated  himself  hesitatingly  beside 
him.  He  then  for  the  first  tune  noticed  the  meanness  of  his 
own  apparel,  and  the  contrast  between  it  and  that  of  his 
new  employer,  and  a  feeling  of  shame  crept  over  him  ;  but 
he  was  so  overjoyed  to  find  something  to  do,  that  all  else 
was  for  the  moment  forgotten.  As  they  rode  rapidly  along, 
his  mind  was  occupied  with  thoughts  of  the  great  delight 
with  which  his  mother  would  learn  the  glad  tidings  of  his 
good  fortune.  Having  gone  some  distance,  the  gentleman 

5 


98          OLD     HA UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

drew  up  before  an  elegant  mansion  and  alighting,  said  to 
Mich: 

"  Now,  Mich,  hold  the  horse,  don't  let  him  run  away  with 
you." 

"  Sorra  a  fear  of  that,  sir,"  answered  Mich,  as  he  grasped 
the  reins  rather  too  tightly  to  please  the  restive  and  high- 
spirited  animal. 

"  Mich,  you'd  better  get  out  and  hold  him  by  the  bridle," 
said  the  gentleman. 

Mich  jumped  out  quickly,  for  he  didn't  in  the  least  fancy 
sitting  alone  behind  the  horse,  however  pleasant  it  might  be 
to  him,  when  some  one  else  held  the  reins. 

The  gentleman  was  absent  but  a  few  moments,  when  he 
returned  and  took  his  seat  in  the  carriage.  Thus  he  con- 
tinued driving  rapidly,  and  anon  stopping  at  some  residence 
for  a  few  minutes,  till  Mich  began  to  wonder  what  he  could 
be  after — but  his  curiosity  was  soon  gratified  for  the  gentle- 
man looking  at  his  watch,  said  : 

"  Well,  Mich,  I  shall  not  want  you  any  more  to-day.  How 
would  you  like  to  hold  my  horse  every  day  ?" 

Nothin'  better,  sir,  if  ye'd  pay  me  for  it." 

"  Certainly  I  shall  pay  you.  How  much  would  you 
want  ?" 

"  Anything  ye  plase,  sir." 

"  I  think  we  shall  agree  then.  I'll  direct  you  to  the  stable, 
and  then  you  can  go  alone  next  time;  all  I  shall  want  of  you 
will  be  to  drive  my  horse  around  to  my  office  every  morning 
at  nine  o'clock,  and  to  hold  him  for  me  while  I  make  my 


THE      SEARCH.  99 

visits,  and  to  take  care  of  my  office.  Do  you  think  you  can 
do  it,  and  be  punctual  ?" 

"  Sure,  there's  nothing  so  very  hard  about  that,  sir." 

"  Well,  then,  Mich,  I  will  engage  you,  and  I  will  pay  you 
well,  too,  and  if  you  suit  me  I  will  do  something  more  for 
you,"  said  Doctor  Marsh,  for  such  was  the  name  and  title  of 
Mich's  employer.  Mich  saw  the  horse  properly  disposed  of, 
and  then  inquired  : 

"  Do  you  want  me  any  more  to-day,  sir  ?" 

"  I  don't  wish  my  carriage  after  dinner,  and  as  it  is  near 
four  o'clock  now,  I  shall  not  need  you,  but  you  must  take 
care  to  be  in  time  to-morrow  morning — remember  nine 
o'clock.  I  had  to  dismiss  the  last  boy  I  had  because  he  did 
not  attend  in  time.  There's  a  quarter  for  to-day.  I'll  give 
you  two  shillings  a  day  if  you  do  well,"  and  so  saying,  the 
Doctor  put  into  Mich's  hand  the  money.  He  did  not  wait 
to  hear  anything  farther,  but  started  off  as  fast  as  his  legs 
could  carry  him  to  the  place  where  his  mother  was  at  work. 

It  was  a  long  way,  and  Mich  was  tired  and  hungry  when 
he  had  reached  it.  He  stood  outside,  watching  eagerly  the 
door,  and  starting  forward,  whenever  it  opened,  glancing 
from  time  to  time  up  and  around  at  the  windows,  and  finally 
sat  down  on  the  steps,  waiting  impatiently  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  his  mother — for  he  dared  not  go  inside.  He  sat 
until  it  began  to  grow  dark,  when  her  day's  labor  being 
finished,  his  mother  appeared  at  the  door,  ready  to  leave  for 
home.  At  sight  of  him,  she  exclaimed  : 

"  Och  !  Mich,  darlint,  are  ye  starved  intirely?" 


100        OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  In  fa'th,  mother,  there's  no  use  denyin'  it,  I  am  that 
same." 

"  Quick,  then,  Mich,  and  ate  this,  I've  saved  it  from  me 
dinner.  What've  ye  been  about  the  day  ?" 

"  Indade  ye'd  better  ask — I  was  holding  the  horse  for  the 
gintleman  that's  hired  me." 

"  God  bless  him,  Mich — an'  are  ye  hired  ?" 

"  Sure  an'  I  am,  and  see  the  silver  that  he  gave  me  too." 

"  The  saints  be  praised,  the  lady  within  hadn't  the  money, 
she  said,  and  that  I  must  wait  till  to-morrow.  I  was  afraid 
to  tell  her  that  I  had  niver  a  crust  of  bread  lift  for  my  sup- 
per, nor  for  the  childer — but  we'll  not  nade  it  now." 

"  It's  little  she'd  a  cared  if  ye  had  a  tould  her  ;  but  any 
way,  mother,  was  n't  it  a  mane  trick  for  her  to  send  ye  away 
hungry,  after  ye're  hard  labor — perhaps  she'll  not  pay  ye  at 
all." 

"  Shame  on  ye,  Mich,  to  think  such  a  fine  lady  'd  be  afther 
chatin'  a  poor  body  like  me." 

"  Small  difference  'twixt  the  two to  keep  from  ye  the 

money  ye  made  to  buy  bread,"  said  Mich,  indignantly. 

"  Och  1  Mich,  ye  don't  suppose  I  tould  the  lady  that  I  was 
in  nade  of  the  money,  do  ye  ?  Sure  if  I  had,  she'd  a  given  it 
to  me." 

"  Troth,  an'  I  wish  she  had,  thin." 

"  Niver  ye  mind,  darlint,  we're  not  starvin'  yet,"  said  Mrs. 
Lynch,  as  they  trudged  wearily  homeward. 

When  they  had  reached  it,  Mich  proposed  that  they  should 
have  a  fire,  and  said  that  he  would  just  step  out  and  gather 


THE     SEARCH.  101 

a  few  blocks,  and  then  call  at  the  grocer's  and  buy  some- 
thing nice  for  them,  and  for  little  Jonny,  who  had  been  left 
in  the  care  of  a  kind  neighbor,  and  whom  they  had  found 
impatiently  waiting  their  return.  Mich  left,  and  soon  came 
with  a  few  pieces  of  board  which  he  had  picked  up,  and  ob- 
taining a  coal  of  fire  from  a  neighbor,  soon  had  a  blaze,  and 
then  they  sat  down  and  partook  of  their  meal,  and  enjoyed 
the  cheering  light  and  heat  of  the  fire,  while  Mich  detailed 
all  the  particulars  of  the  day's  adventures  and  fortunes,  until 
the  fire  burned  low  on  the  hearth,  when  they  turned  them 
to  their  lowly  beds,  and  were  soon  soundly  asleep. 

Mich  went  with  a  light  heart  the  next  day  to  his  newly 
assumed  duties,  and  he  gave  such  satisfaction,  that  he  was 
permanently  engaged  at  twelve  shillings  a  week.  Mich's 
employer  was  attracted  by  his  open  countenace  and  intelli- 
gent look,  and  became  quite  interested  in  him. 

He  had  not,  by  any  means,  forgotten  Anna  or  his  engage- 
ment with  the  pawnbroker,  and  was  constantly  on  the  alert, 
wherever  he  went.  And  on  his  way  home  at  night  he  would 
go  by  new  and  unusual  routes,  and  glance  at  every  attic 
window  that  he  passed,  hoping,  in  some  way,  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  her  face.  For  it  had  never  occurred  to  him  to 
seek  for  her  in  more  expensive  lodgings,  nor  to  look  for  her 
among  the  host  of  well-clad  children  that  he  constantly  met. 
He  continued  his  search  as  much  on  his  own  account  as  on 
account  of  his  promise,  for,  since  he  laid  the  foundation  of  his 
fortune  by  obtaining  such  a  lucrative  situation,  he  could  afford 
to  be  indifferent  to  the  pittance  offered  to  him  by  the  pawn- 


102       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

broker,  as  the  reward  of  his  successful  exertions.  He  avoided, 
for  some  days,  calling  to  see  him,  both  because  he  had  been 
better  employed,  and  because,  unless  he  could  carry  some 
tidings  of  the  sought  child,  he  would  not  be  a  welcome 
visitor.  Thus  time  slipped  away,  Mich,  in  attendance  upon 
the  physician,  and  his  mother  obtaining  through  the  day 
work,  wherever  and  whenever  she  could,  and  returning  at 
night  to  her  home,  where  Mich  was  always  ready  to  relate 
his  adventures.  Their  united  earnings  provided  them  with 
the  necessaries  of  life,  besides  paying  the  rent  of  the  room 
in  which  they  lived,  but  nothing  more.  Several  weeks  had 
elapsed  since  he  had  lost  all  sight  and  trace  of  Anna  ;  and 
winter,  with  its  storms  and  winds,  sleet  and  snow,  had  fairly 
set  in.  Christmas  time  was  near.  Troops  of  merry  chil- 
dren thronged  the  bazaars,  attracted  by  the  glittering  dis- 
play. But  Mich  had  no  money  to  waste  upon  trifles.  He 
must  be  satisfied  with  gazing  through  the  showy  windows 
upon  the  tempting  treasures  beyond  his  reach,  and  listening 
to  the  careless  laugh  of  those  more  fortunate  than  himself,  as 
they  issued  from  the  shops,  laden  with  their  purchases. 

It  was  thus  he  stood,  looking  and  admiring,  before  one  of 
the  handsome  bazaars  in  Broadway,  the  evening  before 
Christmas.  He  was  on  his  way  home,  and  had  stopped  for 
a  moment  to  feast  his  eyes  on  the  profusion  of  rich  and 
rare  articles  displayed,  when  he  heard  some  one  exclaim  : 

"  See,  isn't  that  beautiful  ?"  The  tone  of  voice  pene- 
trated his  ear  ;  he  started,  and  turned  to  gaze  after  the 
speaker,  but  all  were  strange  ;  he  saw  no  familiar  face,  yet 


THE     SEARCH.  103 

he  was  sure  that  he  knew  the  voice — it  was  that  of  Anna. 
Yet  none  but  well-dressed  people  were  near  him.  He  could 
not  discover  the  little  straw  hat  and  faded  shawl  in  which 
he  expected  to  find  her.  Many  still  stood  gazing  in  at  the 
windows  ;  many  were  constantly  passing  in  and  out,  while 
others  were  hurrying  past.  Mich  edged  around  till  he  could 
look  into  the  faces  of  those  who  stood  there  in  the  full  glare 
of  the  light.  But  she  was  not  there.  He  stood  and 
watched  those  going  and  coming  out  of  the  bazaar.  But 
she  was  not  among  them.  After  waiting  and  looking  till  he 
knew  it  would  be  vain  to  wait  longer,  he  sighed  and  turned 
with  a  heavy  heart  towards  home.  He  wondered  if  it  could 
be  possible  that  Anna  would  forget  him.  He  was  sure  he 
never  could  her.  But  then  Mich  was  young,  and  knew  but 
little  of  the  world,  or  he  would  have  thought  diffirently. 

In  the  meantime,  the  pawnbroker  had  not  given  up  the 
search.  Day  after  day  had  he  diligently  inquired  in  all 
sorts  of  places  of  all  sorts  of  persons,  but  in  vain.  Cornell 
had  visited  him  often  to  ascertain  if  he  had  learned  any- 
thing of  the  child.  But  both  were  disappointed,  and  still 
she  was  within  ten  minutes'  walk  of  the  pawnbroker's  den. 

It  might  not  appear  at  all  strange  at  the  present  day  if  she 
had  lived  in  the  next  building  to  his,  and  he  not  have  found 
her  ;  but  in  those  days  it  was  different.  Then  a  man  knew 
his  neighbor,  and  although  the  city  had  even  then  a  goodly 
growth,  still  the  attempt  to  find  a  person  whose  name  did 
not  happen  to  be  in  the  directory,  was  not  so  much  like 
looking  for  a  needle  hi  a  haystack  as  at  the  present  time. 


104      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

On  Christmas  eve,  Cornell  again  called  upon  the  pawnbro- 
ker. He  found  him  shivering  over  a  few  coals  which  were 
smouldering  in  the  grate.  He  entered  the  shop  as  usual,  in 
a  boisterous  manner,  giving  the  door  a  slam,  but  without 
closing  it  ;  and  walking  up  to  the  pawnbroker,  gave  him  a 
slap  on  the  shoulder,  exclaiming  : 

"  How  are  you  once  more,  old  fellow  ?" 

"  Shut  the  door  ;  what's  the  use  of  having  a  fire  and 
paying  for  coals,  if  we've  got  to  warm  the  whole  city  ?" 
said  Haun,  querulously. 

"  A  fire  !  ha  1  ha  !  ha  !  You  don't  call  that  a  fire,  do 
you  ?" 

"  What  would  you  call  it,  I'd  like  to  know  ?" 

"  I  should  think  you'd  lit  a  cigar  and  laid  it  in  the  grate. 
In  fact,  man,  you  need  your  glasses  on  to  see  any  fire  at  aH. 
Put  on  more  coal ;  heap  it  up,  let's  have  a  roaring  fire  ;  it's 
infernally  cold  to-night." 

"  No,  I  shan't,  I'm  warm  enough.  If  you  don't  like  it 
here,  go  where  it's  warmer." 

"  You  won't,  eh  ?  well,  then,  I  will.  Here  goes.  I'm 
bound  to  get  warm  before  I  leave  here,"  said  Cornell,  as  he 
caught  up  the  coal  scuttle  and  emptied  its  contents  into  the 
grate. 

"  Stop  that ;  you've  put  on  enough  to  have  lasted  me  all 
day  to-morrow,  and  it's  'most  bed  time  too  ;  but  you'll  pay 
for  it  some  day."  And  Haun  stooped  over  and  picked  off 
with  his  fingers  as  many  of  the  pieces  of  coal  as  he  could 
before  they  became  ignited.  He  did  not  get  enraged,  as  he 


THE      8  E  A  li  C  II  .  105 

would  have  done,  if  almost  any  other  person  in  the  world 
had  presumed  to  do  such  an  act ;  but  Cornell  had  a  reck- 
less, devil-may-care  way  with  him,  and  Haun  thought 
discretion  the  better  part  of  valor,  and  therefore  concluded 
to  take  it  quietly,  looking  to  the  future  for  compensation  for 
all  damage  and  suffering. 

"Let  the  coal  alone  now,  and  get  warm  for  once  this 
winter,"  said  Cornell. 

"  What  is  it  to  you  whether  I'm  warm  or  cold  ?" 

"  Whether  you  are  warm  or  cold,  not  the  least  concern  in 
the  world,  I  assure  you  ;  but  if  you  are  determined  to  freeze 
yourself,  you've  no  right  to  freeze  your  visitors.  So  as 
we  are  going  to  have  a  little  business  together,  I  am 
going  to  get  warm  first." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  we  are  to  have  any  business  toge- 
ther or  not."  „ 

"  Well,  if  you  didn't  know  it  before,  you'll  learn  it  now  ; 
we  are." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  then  ?"  said  Haun,  with  a  stolid  expres- 
sion, and  without  looking  up. 

Cornell  continued  without  noticing  the  question,  "I've 
got  some  business,  and  I'm  going  to  throw  you  a  bait  that 
you'll  snap  at  as  a  gudgeon  does  at  a  fly.  But  first,  I  want 
some  news  of  the  girl.  Have  you  any  trace  of  her?  Is 
your  fortune  made  or  not  ?" 

"  No,"  abruptly  answered  Haun. 

"  That's  bad.     I've  got  done  looking." 

"  You  ha'nt  found  her  ?"  asked  Haun  anxiously. 

5* 


106 

"  No,  I  have  not,  and  what's  more  I  don't  expect  to,  and 
what's  more  still,  I  don't  want  to,"  said  Cornell. 

"  Why,  what's  come  over  you  ?"  asked  Haun. 

Cornell  did  not  reply,  but  looked  fixedly  at  Haun  a  mo- 
ment and  then  said: 

"  Haun,  I  told  you  I'd  got  some  business  with  you.  I've 
got  an  idea  of  something  whereby  we  can  both  of  us  make 
a  trifle,  if  you  are  willing." 

"  Willing  !  why  not.  I'm  always  ready  to  make  mon^y — 
now  what  is  it  ?" 

"  All  in  due  time.  I  told  you  I  had  got  an  idea — it  came 
to  me  suddenly — and  now  I  can't  get  rid  of  it — strange  I 
never  thought  of  it  before — it's  worth  a  mine.  But  you 
need'nt  look  any  longer  for  that  girl,  I  don't  want  to  find 
her." 

"  What  the  devil  are  you  driving  at  ?  Why  don't  you 
speak  out  at  once  ?" 

"  Old  man,"  said  Cornell,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  pawn- 
broker's knee,  "  I  believe  you've  got  the  nerve  to  do  any- 
thing, and  have  no  particular  scruples  of  conscience — that's 
what's  needed.  I've  got  a  little  scheme  to  carry  out  and  I 
want  you  to  help  me." 

"  All  very  well,  but  what  do  you  want  ?  If  you've  got 
anything  to  say  why  say  it,  and  then  have  done." 

"  Softly,  softly,  don't  get  impatient.  It's  a  letter  that  I 
want  you  to  write  for  me.  I'll  dictate  it,  and  pay  you  well 
for  your  trouble;  but  you  must  keep  a  close  mouth  about  it." 

"No  you  don't,  I'm  too  old  for  that,"  said  the  pawn- 


THESEARCH.  107 

broker,  starting  back.  "  No  forgery — anything  that's  not 
inside  of  the  law,  and  I'm  your  man,  if  there's  money  to  be 
made  by  it ;  but  no  forgery.  I  tell  you  I  wont." 

"  Shut  up  your  head,  you  old  fool — there's  no  forgery  nor 
anything  else  that's  against  the  law,  so  you  need'nt  fear. 
But  to  tell  you  the  truth,  from  the  good  character  you  bear 
among  your  acquaintances,  I  believe  you  would  as  soon  as 
not,  cut  any  man's  throat  at  midnight,  if  there  was  money 
to  be  made  by  it,  and  it  is  for  this  very  reason  that  I've 
come  to  you.  But  don't  get  excited — there's  no  throat  to  be 
cut,  nor  any  crime  to  be  committed — but  simply  a  letter  to 
be  written,  and  it  must  be  done  by  some  one  that  I  can  trust 
under  any  contingency,  and  you  are  the  man." 

"  Let  me  see  the  color  of  your  money  and  the  thing's  done. 
There's  my  hand  upon  it,"  said  Haun,  warmly. 

"  Is  there  any  one  about  here  that  can  hear  us  ?"  asked 
Cornell,  glancing  at  the  windows  and  doors. 

"  No,  not  a  soul,  not  a  shadow,"  replied  the  pawnbroker. 
'  Now  what  shall  I  write." 

"  Come  a  little  nearer  old  fellow,  and  I'll  tell  you.  I  want 
you  to  write  me  a  letter  saying  that  Anna  Hervey  and  her 
father  and  mother  are  dead — that  you  attended  them  through 
their  last  sickness  as  their  physician — that  you  often  heard 
Mrs.  Hervey  speak  of  a  relative  she  had  in  New  Orleans, 
from  whom  she  had  been  separated  a  great  while,  and  whom 
she  was  very  anxious  to  see  again — and  that  you  wrote  at 
her  request,  made  before  her  death,  etc.;  and  then  sign  your 
name  as  physician.  Will  you  do  it  ?" 


108       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Not  until  you  tell  me  why  you  want  me  to  write  it.  I 
take  no  leaps  in  the  dark,"  said  Haun. 

"  If  I  had  supposed  you  were  so  very  particular  I  should 
have  said  nothing  to  you  about  the  matter.  There  are 
enough  others  who  are  willing  to  turn  an  honest  penny  by 
merely  writing  a  few  lines;  but  as  we've  begun  together 
we'll  go  on  together.  But  will  you  swear  never,  under  any 
circumstances,  in  any  place,  or  under  any  compulsion  or  per- 
suasion, to  speak  of  it  again  ?" 

"  Trust  me  for  that.  But  I  don't  understand  the  matter 
yet,  and  as  I  told  you,  I'll  not  leap  in  the  dark." 

"  Well,  well ;  I  may  as  well  tell  the  whole  story  then.  You 
see  I  have  a  cousin  in  New  Orleans  by  the  name  of  William 
Leonard,  who  is  the  brother  of  this  Mrs.  Hervey.  He  has 
been  a  sea  captain  all  his  life,  and  has  got  together  a  little 
property — say  a  hundred  thousand  at  least.  Well,  on  his 
last  voyage  out  he  got  his  leg  crushed  in  a  gale,  by  the 
swinging  around  of  the  boom,  and  has  not  been  able  to  move 
about  since ;  and  so,  being  obliged  to  stay  cooped  up  all  the 
time,  he  begins  to  think  he'd  like  to  have  his  sister,  from 
whom  he's  been  separated  so  long,  come  and  live  with  him, 
and  keep  house  for  him,  but  he  don't  know  where  to  look  for 
her.  When  he  got  back  from  one  of  his  voyages  to  China, 
he  found  their  mother  dead  and  his  pretty  sister  rocking  a 
cradle  of  her  own.  She  had  married  a  poor  schoolmaster 
while  he  was  absent,  and  he  was  mad  enough  when  he  found 
it  out,  and  immediately  left  the  house;  and  as  the  school- 
master wouldn't  let  her  have  any  communication  with  her 


THE     SEARCH.  109 


brother  (even  if  she  wanted  to — I  don't  know  as  she  did), 
he  finally  lost  all  trace  of  them  after  they  moved  into  this 
city.  But  lately,  as  I  said,  he  is  determined  to  discover 
them;  and  so,  as  he  himself  could  not  come,  on  account  of 
the  injury,  he  sent  me  up  last  May  to  look  for  them,  and  I 
have  been  stopping  at  the  Astor  House,  and  looking  ever 
since;  but  with  no  prospect  of  success.  Now  I  suppose  you 
begin  to  understand,  eh  ?  If  Leonard  believed  them  all  to 
be  dead  he'd  give  it  up  and  be  quiet;  and  then,  I  being  his 
cousin,  and  the  only  living  relative  that  he  would  have,  he'd 
just  make  me  his  heir,  and  then  I'd  come  in  for  the  whole 
when  he  dies — which  will  be  before  a  great  while,  for  he 
cannot  last  long.  Now  you  understand  the  whole  thing 
from  beginning  to  end.  Will  you  do  it  ?" 

"  What  will  you  give  me  ?" 

'•  How  much  do  you  want  ?     Set  your  own  price." 

"  Cornell  !  let  us  understand  each  other  plainly.  You 
know  well  enough  that  it's  not  the  mere  writing  of  a  letter 
that  you  are  to  pay  for.  There's  a  little  risk  in  the  matter 
for  you  as  well  as  for  me.  I  don't  know  what  the  law  is,  nor 
do  I  care.  Only  let  me  see  my  way  clear  and  good  pay,  and 
I'll  stand  by  you  through  thick  and  thin." 

"  Yes,  yes  !  now  name  your  price." 

"  You  said  the  property  was  worth  one  hundred  thousand. 
Didn't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  about  that,  more  or  less  ?" 

"  Then  I  nmst  have  ten  thousand  dollars  ;  give  me  your 
bond  for  ten  thousand  dollars,  payable  when  you  come  into 
-  possession,  if  you  obtain  it  through  my  assistance.  " 


110      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Devil !  man  !  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"A  tenth  is  a  small  share  for  such  a  venture,  but  then  if 
you  can  get  it  done  cheaper,  do  so  ;  it's  all  one  to  me  ;  there's 
too  much  risk  in  it  for  me  to  crave  the  job." 

Cornell  sat  and  meditated  awhile  and  then  said,  "  Well  I 
a  tenth  if  I  succeed,  and  nothing  if  I  fail." 

"  No,  I  must  have  pay  for  my  trouble,  anyway." 

"  Not  a  cent.  I  offer  you  the  chance.  Take  it  or  not ; 
I'll  not  bind  myself  to  pay  you  anything  unless  we  succeed. 
We  take  the  risk  jointly  and  share  the  profits  and  losses 
jointly.  He's  always  told  me  that  I  should  be  his  heir,  and 
now  he's  got  a  crotchet  in  his  head  that  he  must  find  this 
sister  and  her  child.  I  know  well  enough  how  it  will  go  if 
he  does  find  her.  She'll  get  all  and  I  none." 

"  Perhaps  he  would  divide  it  between  you,"  said  Haun. 

"  So  I  thought  once,  and  would  have  been  very  willing  to 
divide,  but  I  got  a  letter  to-day  that  settled  that,"  said 
Cornell,  producing  a  letter. 

"  Let  me  see  it,  will  you  "  asked  Haun,  as  he  extended 
his  hand. 

"  I'll  read  it  to  you.  First,  though  I  must  explain  a 
little  ;  I  wrote  to  him  sometime  in  September  for  more 
money  ;  that  was  a  short  time  before  I  brought  my  watch  to 
you,  and  he  sent  me  a  draft  for  five  hundred,  and  remarked 
that  he  thought  I  was  not  using  my  utmost  exertions  to 
find  his  relatives,  and  that  the  trifle  remitted  must  be 
used  in  paying  my  expenses,  etc.,  home  to  New  Orleans. 
Well,  you  see,  I  prefer  living  in  New  York,  and  you  know 
five  hundred  dollars  does  not  go  far  in  this  city,  but  I  did  not 


THE     SEARCH.  Ill 

dare  to  write  to  him  for  more  money,  and  so  I  sent  him  word 
that  I  thought  I  had  got  track  of  his  relatives,  and  hoped 
to  find  them  very  soon  alive,  and  to  restore  them  to  him  and 
all  that  sort  of  stuff,  you  know.  Well,  that  letter  has  made 
him  show  his  colors,  and  now  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  find  them 
at  all,  or  if  I  do  he  shall  never  know  it." 

"  Well !  well  1  read  the  letter,"  interrupted  Haun. 

"  Here  it  is,"  answered  Cornell,  reading. 

"  '  NEW  ORLEANS,  November  80, 18  — . 
41 '  JAMES  CORNELL,  New  York. 

"  '  MY  DEAR  SIR  : — Your  favor  has  just  been  received,  and  I  am 
glad  to  learn  by  it  that  you  have  at  last  been  able  to  obtain  some 
tidings  of  Mary.  I  wish  I  could  come  and  join  you  in  the  search,  but 
my  health  will  not  permit,  but  let  me  urge  you  to  leave  nothing  un- 
tried to  discover  her.  I  am  very  impatient  after  our  long  separation 
to  see  my  sister  again,  for  I  am  afraid  that  my  health  is  failing,  and  I 
should  be  glad  to  learn  that  she  is  still  living  to  enjoy  the  fortune 
which  I  shall  leave  to  her. 

"  '  Let  me  hear  from  you  as  soon  as  possible,  and  tell  me  all  the 
particulars.  Your  Cousin, 

"  '  WILLIAM  LEONARD.'  " 

"  Well,  Cornell,  that  seems  to  settle  the  question  pretty 
positively,  don't  it  ?  But  how  comes  it  that  you  are  so  depen- 
dent upon  him  ?"  asked  Haun. 

"  My  father  and  mother  died  of  yellow  fever  when  I  was 
but  ten  years  old,  and  Leonard  has  always  provided  for  me 
— clothed  me,  and  sent  me  to  school.  He  seemed  to  take  a 
sort  of  a  fancy  to  me,  and  I  went  two  trips  with  him,  but  I 


112      OLD     1IAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

didn't  like  the  salt  water,  so  I  have  been  clerking  it  now  for 
three  or  four  years.     But  I've  got  tired  of  that,  too,  and 

have  made  up  my  mind  to  try  a  little  speculation  that  may 

\ 
pay  better." 

"  Didn't  you  ever  know  this  Hervey  family,  or  see  any  of 
them  ?" 

"  Never  but  once — years  ago — and  then  Leonard  took  me 
up  north  with  him  when  he  went  to  visit  his  mother,  and  I 
stayed  a  summer  with  them,  there  were  only  at  that  time  his 
mother  and  his  sister,  who  married  Hervey  the  schoolmaster 
— since  then  I've  never  seen  any  of  them,  but  I  knew  that 
miniature  the  minute  I  set  my  eyes  on  it.  It's  the  portrait 
of  Leonard's  mother,  who  was  grandmother  of  this  child 
that  you've  been  looking  for.  The  way  I  became  related 
was  this — Leonard's  mother  and  my  father,  were  brother 
and  sister — my  father  went  down  to  New  Orleans  to  seek 
his  fortune — married  a  Connecticut  girl  that  came  down 
there  on  a  visit,  and  soon  both  were  taken  off  with  the 
yellow  fever — as  I  have  just  told  you — and  then  Leonard 
who  had  been  with  us  a  good  deal,  having  often  been  in 
port  while  we  lived  there,  concluded  after  my  father  died  to 
settle  there,  as  he  liked  the  city  pretty  well,  and  so  he  took 
me  along  with  him,  as  there  was  no  one  else  that  wanted 
me.  Before  his  sister  married,  he  was  off  and  on,  but  after 
that,  he  lived  south  altogether  when  he  was  on  shore.  He 
was  a  well  educated  man,  and  had  been  around  the  world  so 
much,  and  got  together  property  pretty  rapidly,  but  always 
liked  the  water  better  than  the  land." 


THE     SEARCH.  113 

"  And  now  you  want  him  to  believe  that  his  sister  and 
child  are  dead,  so  that  he  will  leave  his  property  to  you  ?" 
asked  Haun. 

*',  That's  it  exactly.  You  just  write  that  letter,  and  I  will 
enclose  it  in  one  from  myself  and  then  he  will  be  convinced, 
and  give  up  the  search." 

Haun  got  up  and  brought  paper,  pens,  and  ink,  near  the 
fire,  and  seating  himself,  prepared  to  write  ;  but  before  com- 
mencing, he  remarked,  as  if  the  idea  had  at  the  moment 
occurred  to  him  : 

"  By  the  way,  Cornell,  that  bond — we  might  as  well  pre- 
pare that  in  the  first  place — everything  in  its  order,  you 
know." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Cornell. 

The  pawnbroker  then  proceeded  to  draw  up  a  bond,  with 
a  penalty,  setting  forth  that  Cornell  his  heirs,  etc.,  acknow- 
ledged themselves  indebted  to  him  in  the  penal  sum  of 
twenty  thousand  dollars,  etc.,  and  stating  the  condition  to  be 
that  if  he  the  said  Cornell  should,  as  soon  as  he  should  enter 
into  the  possession,  by  devise  or  otherwise,  of  the  property 
real  and  personal  of  one  William  Leonard,  then  of  New 
Orleans,  pay  to  the  said  Haun  the  sum  of  ten  thousand 
dollars  lawful  money  of  the  United  States,  then  the  obliga- 
tion was  to  be  void,  otherwise,  of  force. 

"  There,"  said  Haun,  as  he  finished,  "  that'll  do  as  well 
as  anything,  now  just  put  your  name  to  it  and  we'll  finish 
the  letter  at  once." 

Cornell  merely  glanced  over   the  instrument  carelessly, 


114:      OID     HA  TIN,     THE     PAWNBKOKEK. 

without  observing  particularly  its  import,  and  taking  for 
granted  that  it  was  all  right,  signed  his  name,  and  tossing 
the  instrument  towards  the  pawnbroker  said  : 

"  Come,  now  for  the  letter." 

"  Yes,  I'll  have  it  ready  in  a  minute,"  Haun  replied,  as 
he  commenced  writing,  after  a  few  minutes  he  laid  down  his 
pen  and  said  : 

"  See  if  this  suits." 

"  '  NEW  YORK,  Dec.  24, 18— 
"  '  WILLIAM  LEONARD,  ESQ.,  New  Orleans. 

"  '  DEAR  SIR  : — At  the  request  of  Mr.  James  Cornell,  I  write,  for 
the  purpose  of  giving  you  the  information  that  I  possess  concerning 
a  family,  formerly  living  here,  by  the  name  of  Hervey.  The  family 
consisted  of  but  two  persons.  The  man  died  of  fever  about  a  month 
since,  and  I  attended  him  professionally  in  his  last  illness.  His  wife 
was  then  sick  of  consumption,  and  has  since  died.  I  knew  no  other 
member  of  the  family,  but  heard  them  speak  of  the  death  some  two 
years  since  of  an  only  child,  I  believe  a  daughter.  They  seemed  to 
be  in  moderate  circumstances.  Further  than  this  I  am  not  able  to 

communicate  anything. 

'•  '  Very  respectfully  yours,  etc., 

'•  '  CARLOS  HAUN, 

"  '  Physician,  New  York.  '  " 

"That's  the  thing,  exactly,"  exclaimed  Cornell,  with 
exultation,  after  Haun  had  concluded  reading.  "  Now  I'll 
manufacture  a  plausible  story  about  finding  you,  and  tell 
him  all  the  particulars.  That  I  have  discovered  their 
graves,  and  had  a  monument  erected,  etc.,  that  will  draw  at 
least  five  hundred  dollars  more.  You'll  see.  But  it's 


THE     SEARCH.  115 

getting  late,  and  I  must  go.  See  that  you  keep  a  close 
mouth,  and  we'll,  both  of  us,  make  a  good  thing  out  of  it. 
Good  night,"  said  Cornell,  as  he  put  the  letter  in  his  pocket 
and  buttoned  up  his  coat,  preparatory  to  starting. 

"  You  stay  at  the  Astor,  yet,  I  suppose,"  carelessly  inquired 
Haun. 

"  Yes  ;  but  never  you  fear,  I  shan't  run  away." 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  that,  or  if  you  do,  I  shall  know  where 
to  find  you." 

"  Well  !  Good  night,"  Cornell  said,  as  he  closed  the 
door. 

"  Good  night,"  Haun  echoed,  as  he  advanced  to  bolt  and 
bar  the  door  and  windows,  and  then  muttered  to  himself  : 
"  A  good  job — that  bond  '11  hold  him,  if  he  ever  gets  posses- 
sion of  the  property — no  lawyer  could  have  done  it  better. 
He  acknowledges  that  he  owes  me  so  many  thousand  dollars, 
which  he  agrees  to  pay  when  he  gets  the  property  ;  and  he'll 
have  to  pay  it,  too,  if  the  girl  don't  appear  somewhere — 
why,  didn't  I  know  it  all,  when  I  had  the  girl  here  ?  "  con- 
tinued Haun,  with  a  scowl,  and  compressed  lips,  as  he 
finished  his  duties,  and  extinguishing  the  fire,  retired  for  the 
night. 


116      OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE     GUARDIAN. 

THE  first  day  spent  by  Anna,  in  her  new  home,  was  one  of 
real  enjoyment,  notwithstanding  the  almost  constant  remem- 
brance of  her  recent  loss.  Her  mother  was  better — or 
seemed  to  be — they  could,  together,  enjoy  the  luxuries  of  a 
cheerful  fire,  and  well-spread  table. 

Their  kind-hearted  friend  did  all  he  could  to  make  them 
contented,  and  endeavored  also,  so  to  arrange  his  domestic 
economy,  that  they  should  not  be  unnecessarily  reminded  of 
their  affliction,  or  of  their  change  of  abode,  except  by  its 
increased  comfort. 

Bridget,  the  servant,  knew  it  to  be  the  wish  of  her  mas- 
ter, that  they  should  be  well  cared  for  ;  and  she,  simple 
soul,  thought  if  she  kept  them  well  fed  and  warm,  that  there 
could  be  no  other  want. 

Mrs.  Hervey  laid  on  the  sofa,  and  Anna  sat  beside  her. 
They  spoke  but  little,  their  hearts  were  too  full  of  speech. 
Mrs.  Hervey  suppressed  her  sorrow  as  much  as  possible,  for 
Anna's  sake  ;  but  she,  with  the  quick-sightedness  of  child- 


THE     GUABDIAN.  117 

hood,  saw  and  sympathized  in  the  grief  of  one  so  near  *and 
dear  to  her. 

Doctor  Foster  had  the  very  few  articles  that  remained  to 
Mrs.  Hervey  removed  from  her  late  home.  Those  that  were 
worth  preserving,  he  sent  to  his  own  house,  and  the  remain- 
ing things  were  disposed  of  as  opportunity  offered. 

During  the  day  he  had  but  few  moments  leisure  that  he 
could  devote  to  them.  But  when  he  had  taken  his  supper, 
he  seated  himself  very  comfortably  by  the  fire,  saying  : 

"  Gome,  Anna,  bring  your  chair  here  close  by  me,  and 
let's  have  a  nice,  cozy  time." 

Anna  did  as  requested,  seating  herself  close  by  the  doc- 
tor, but  he  drew  her  still  nearer,  saying  : 

"  There,  that's  the  way — come  close  up  to  me.  You  are 
not  afraid  of  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  no.  But  I  thought  I  was  too  heavy  to  lean  upon 
you,"  she  replied. 

"  Too  heavy  !  you,  too  heavy  1  you  little  chicken." 

"Am  I  not  ?"  said  she,  turning  to  her  mother. 

"  Well,  my  daughter,  I  think  you  are  a  pretty  good  size 
for  a  little  girl  of  your  age,  but  not  large,  certainly.  But 
I  presume  you  will  now  grow  rapidly,  surrounded  as  you 
are  by  so  many  comforts.  Doctor  Foster,"  she  continued, 
turning  to  him,  "  I  should  like  to  talk  with  you  about  my 
own  affairs.  I  feel  confident  that  I  have  not  got  long  to 
live.  An  unnatural  strength  has  been  given  me  during  the 
past  summer.  But  that  is  deserting  me  now,  and  I  have 
much  that  I  must  say  to  you.  Will  you  listen  to  me,  now  ?" 


118      OLD     IIAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

she"  added,  pleadingly,  for,  from  the  doctor's  silence,  she 
feared  he  would  put  her  off.  But,  after  a  moment's  thought, 
he  said  abruptly  : 

"  If  you  must  talk,  say  on  what  you  have  to  say.  But  if 
you  would  only  keep  quiet  it  would  be  better  for  you.  You 
will  soon  feel  stronger,  but  I  suppose  you  won't  rest  easy 
until  you  have  relieved  your  mind  ;  but  I  tell  you  once 
more  that  you  need  not  trouble  yourself  about  the  fature, 
so  far  as  your  own  bodily  comfort,  or  that  of  Anna  is  con- 
cerned, for  you  are  welcome  to  a  home  here  as  long  as  you 
live." 

"  God  bless  you  for  your  kindness,"  Mrs.  Hervey  answered, 
with  much  emotion. 

"  There — there — be  quiet.  You  must  be  quiet.  You 
must  not  excite  yourself  so,  if  you  ever  expect  to  get 
strength,"  the  Doctor  interrupted,  impatiently. 

"  I  endeavor  to  restrain  myself,  but  can  not  at  all  times — 
my  nerves  seem  to  be  unstrung." 

"  Very  likely — very  likely,  Ma'am." 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  as  if  to  gather  strength  for 
the  painful  recital,  in  a  low  and  trembling  voice,  Mrs.  Her- 
vey continued.  She  was  often  obliged  to  stop,  from  fatigue, 
and  oftener  to  choke  back  the  tears,  which  the  memory  of 
earlier  and  happier  days  sent  welling  up  to  her  sunken  eyes. 
None  knew  the  burning  anguish  of  those  unshed  tears. 
They  saw  the  quivering  lip  and  the  pale  face,  but  heard  not 
the  cry  for  stren^h  that  rose  on  the  wings  of  the  tremulous 
sigh  that  escaped  from  her  heart. 


THE     GUARDIAN.  119 

How  often  is  it  so,  we  gaze  upon  the  sorrowing  one,  who 
stands  with  tearless  eyes,  to  see  his  life's  treasure  laid  in  the 
grave,  and  think  he  mourns  not — while  our  warmest  sympa- 
thies are  called  forth  by  the  tears  and  lamentations  of  him, 
whose  grief  has  utterance. 

"  Doctor  Foster,"  continued  Mrs.  Hervey,  "  you  have 
taken  a  great  burthen  from  my  mind — Anna  will  have  a 
home  and  protector  when  I  am  gone.  God  put  it  into 
your  heart  to  do  by  her  as  you  would  have  your's  done 

by. 

"  But  it  is  your  right  to  know  all  of  my  past  history,  that 
can  in  any  way  affect  her  whom  you  have  so  kindly  promised 
to  care  for.  Money,  or  property,  as  you  know  I  have  not ; 
neither  have  I  expectations  of  any.  I  have  neither  friend 
nor  relative  in  the  wide  world,  that  would  take  Anna,  and 
provide  for  her.  Feeling  the  truth  of  this,  I  gladly  resign 
her  to  your  protection.  Be  to  her  father,  mother,  and 
friend,  for  when  I  am  gone,  she  will  have  none  other  ;  and 
as  you  deal  gently  with  her,  so  will  your  reward  be  here- 
after. 

"  I  was  born,  and  lived  till  after  the  birth  of  Anna,  in  a 
small  town  in  Massachusetts.  My  father  was  a  seafaring 
man.  He  died  when  I  was  but  a  little  child,  so  that  I  re- 
member almost  nothing  of  him.  I  had  but  one  brother,  and 
for  nine  years  I  have  neither  seen  nor  heard  from  him.  He 
was  older  than  myself  ;  and  he,  too,  when  quite  young,  left 
his  home,  to  follow  the  calling  of  his  father,  but  he  came 
often  to  our  obscure  and  quiet  home — till  that  last  tune, 


120      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

When  he  found  our  dear  mother  dead,  and  I  a  wife  and  a 
mother  ;  and  then  he  left,  and  never  came  again.  He  did 
not  like  my  choice.  I  had  married  one  older  and  wiser 
than  myself,  but  he  was  poor,  and  but  a  school-teacher,  and 
that  did  not  satisfy  my  brother's  ambition.  He  left  me  in 
anger,  although  I  had  married  with  my  mother's  blessing. 
Since  that  tune  I  have  never  heard  from  him  ;  but  I  am 
convinced  he  cannot  be  living,  for  his  warm  and  generous 
heart  would  not  have  let  him  so  long  entertain  unkind 
feelings  towards  me  and  my  family. 

"  Five  years  ago  we  came  to  this  city  ;  my  husband  hop- 
ing to  obtain  some  situation  which  would  yield  a  better  com- 
pensation for  his  services.  For  a  time  we  did  well.  He 
obtained  a  good  salary  as  a  book-keeper.  But  he  was  often 
sick,  and  then  all  our  earnings  went  rapidly,  and  finally  he 
lost  his  situation,  and  for  some  time  could  obtain  no  employ- 
ment suited  to  his  physical  condition.  In  this  manner  we 
were  gradually  reduced  to  poverty.  We  were  obliged  to 
give  up  our  pleasant  home  in  Brooklyn.  One  by  one,  our 
little  treasures  were  sold,  till  nothing  is  now  left  of  the 
things  that  we  most  valued — books — ornaments — tokens  of 
affection — all,  one  after  another,  went  to  buy  us  bread. 
But,  thank  God,  the  worst  trial  of  all  is  over.  To  see  him 
I  loved  so  well,  suffer  for  the  comforts,  and  even  necessaries 
of  life,  and  yet  to  be  unable  to  provide  them,  weighed  hea- 
vily and  constantly  on  my  mind.  But  he  is  at  rest  now  ;  I 
struggled  hard  to  keep  want  from  our  little  home,  but  all 
that  I  could  do  brought  but  little  help.  Accomplishments, 


THE     GUARDIAN.  121 

I  had  not,  and  my  needle  was  all  the  dependence  that  was 
left  me.  Oh,  how  meagre  the  fare  provided  by  that,  even 
when  I  was  able  to  obtain  constant  employment.  For  my 
very  necessities  were  taken  advantage  of,  by  those  for  whom 
I  labored,  to  reduce  my  compensation  to  the  very  lowest 
possible  rate.  If  I  had  been  properly  compensated,  I  might 
have  provided  for  all  our  wants.  But  after  a  night  of  toil, 
I  have  received  barely  sufficient  to  pay  for  the  fuel  that 
kept  me  from  freezing,  and  that  grudgingly  given. 

"  But  my  last  labor  is  done  ;  I  can  work  no  more  ;  and 
with  a  grateful  heart  I  must  continue  to  depend  upon  your 
kindness.  God  only  knows  how  thankful  I  am,  that  I  have 
been  spared  my  greatest  dread,  the  alms-house.  I  leave 
Anna  with  you,  and  something  whispers  me  that  all  will  be 
well." 

"  Mrs.  Hervey,"  said  the  doctor,  taking  her  thin  hand 
in  his  own,  "  your  trust  shall  not  be  betrayed.  I  am  alone 
in  the  world,  and  although  rough  in  manners,  and  possibly 
too  little  mindful  of  the  conventionalities  of  society,  still,  I 
trust,  I  have  an  honest  heart,  and  one  that  is  not  hardened 
as  yet  by  a  long  intercourse  with  a  selfish  world.  And 
again  I  say,  while  I  live,  Anna  shall  not  want  for  anything 
that  it  is  in  my  power  to  provide  ;  and  I  will  in  everything 
do  by  her  as  I  should  wish  my  own  to  be  done  by.  But  you 
must  not  be  so  down-hearted  about  yourself.  I  hope  you 
will  live  many  years  yet,  to  see  Anna  grow  up  to  woman's 
stature." 

"  Do  not  deceive  yourself,  doctor,  or  fear  to  speak  of  that 

6 


122      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

which  I  already  know.  Death  has  no  terrors  for  m 
will  be  bat  the  laying  off  of  this  weak  and  worn-out  body, 
and  I  shall  be  at  rest.  Kest !  No  one  can  comprehend  how 
full  of  meaning  to  me  is  that  word.  Rest  from  toil,  and 
strife,  and  struggle  ;  rest  from  pain  and  weariness,  from 
sleepless  nights,  and  days  of  anguish.  Do  you  wonder  at 
this  strong  desire,  after  the  long  years  of  continued  and 
unceasing  anxiety  and  misery  ?" 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  is  not  the  love  of  your  only  child  a 
bond  strong  enough  to  bind  you  to  life,  now  that  the  storms 
are  past  ?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"  The  storms  may  be  past,  but  they  have  marked  their 
path.  As  to  my  dear  child,  life  is  yet  before  her,  perhaps  a 
happy  one.  If  earthly  love  were  strong  enough  to  combat 
with  death,  then  he,  would  not  have  died.  For  oh,  God  for- 
give me  the  sin,  he  was  my  life,  my  existence.  Why  should 
I  desire  to  live  now,  that  he  is  gone  ?" 

"  Would  you  have  kept  him  here  to  suffer  ?"  asked  the 
docter. 

"  Not  to  suffer  longer  ;  no,  it  is  best  as  it  is.  For  Anna's 
sake,  I  will  strive  against  this  weakness  and  endeavor  to 
recover  my  strength,  but  the  issue  must  remain  with  Him." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so  ;  for  it  is,  in  my  opinion, 
very  wicked,  as  well  as  foolish  to  give  way  to  such  despon- 
dent feelings.  Hope  for  the  best  result  of  all  our  efforts, 
and  that  result  is  more  easily  obtained. 

"  But  you  have  talked  too  long  already.  I  will  prepare 
you  an  anodyne,  and  then  you  had  better  go  to  bed. 


THE     GUAKDIAN.  123 

Here,  this  dear  child  is  fast  asleep.  Anna,"  called  the 
doctor. 

"  What,  sir ;  I  have  not  been  asleep,"  said  Anna,  looking 
up. 

"  Not  asleep  ?  why,  I  thought  you  had  been  sleeping 
this  half  hour.  What  have  you  been  thinking  about  ?" 
inquired  the  doctor. 

Anna  raised  her  large  eyes  to  the  doctor's  face,  and  met 
for  moment  his  searching  look,  and  then,  with  a  quivering 
lip,  she  whispered : 

"  I  was  listening." 

"Humph,"  grunted  the  doctor,  while  a  very  unpleasant 
choking  sensation  arose  in  his  throat.  To  get  rid  of  it, 
he  gave  Anna  a  rough  hug,  and  kissed  her  heartily,  say- 
ing : 

"  Better  go  to  bed.  There,  run  and  call  Biddy,  and  let 
her  help  you  and  mother  to  bed." 

Anna  did  so,  and  soon  mother  and  daughter  were  resting 
quietly  on  their  bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  With  Mrs.  Hervey, 
the  excitement  of  the  evening  was  long  in  yielding  to  the 
influence  of  the  opiate  prepared  for  her.  With  Anna,  the 
painful  relation  to  which  she  had  listened,  aroused  her  active 
mind  and  gave  it  food  for  deeper  meditation.  She,  the 
child  of  ten  years,  went  back  in  imagination  over  the  long 
course  of  her  mother's  troubled  life,  and  dwelt  with  pain- 
ful intensity  upon  the  scenes  of  destitution  and  suffering 
which  she  had  witnessed,  but  never  before  fully  understood 
or  realized.  The  tears  stole  out  of  her  eyes  when  she 


124      OLD    HAUN,     THE     PAWNBEOKEB. 

remembered  her  father's  sufferings,  but  no  sigh  or  sob 
escaped  her  heaving  breast,  for  she  was  conscious  that  her 
mother  was  still  awake,  and  her  affectionate  heart  forbade 
her  adding  one  drop  to  that  mother's  bitter  cup.  Then 
came  the  thought  of  that  uncle  of  whom  her  mother  had 
spoken,  and  of  their  former  home,  and  of  her  playmates, 
and  of  Mich,  and  thus  blending  the  past  with  the  present, 
she  sank  to  sleep. 

Think  yon  ten  years  of  experience — the  hard  experience 
of  a  heartless  world,  such  as  hers  had  been,  too  little  to  have 
matured  her  mind  thu&,  and  to  have  given  it  sober  thoughts. 
If  so,  seek  the  ragged  begger  in  your  daily  walk — one  that 
has  been  tossed  about  by  the  waves  of  adversity  and  ques- 
tion him  ;  you  will  find  that  experience  has  matured  his  mind 
and  made  him  a  man  in  intellect,  although  still  a  youth  in 
size. 

After  Anna  and  her  mother  had  retired,  the  doctor  drew 
his  chair  nearer  the  grate  and  stirred  the  glowing  coals, 
till  its  cheerful  light  and  warmth  filled  the  room — and  then 
he  mused  long  upon  the  strange  circumstances  that  had 
made  him  the  protector  of  two  helpless  females.  That  he  a 
bachelor — he  who  had  lived  through  so  many  years  of 
selfish  loneliness.  That  he  should  now,  as  if  providentially, 
find  himself  the  patriarch  of  a  family.  It  was  singular. 
The  design  had  been  so  suddenly  conceived  by  him  and  so 
immediately  carried  out,  that  he  could  hardly  appreciate  tha 
reality  of  the  change.  But  he  had  no  desire  to  return  to 
his  lonely  condition — be  felt  a  deep  love  springing  up  in  his 


THE     GUABDIAN.  125 

heart  for  the  gentle  child,  now  sheltered  by  his  roof-^aud 
was  pleased  with  himself  for  having  done  a  good  act,  and  did 
not  regret  the  change.  So  sure  is  it  that  we  reap  even  in 
this  life  a  thousand  fold  from  the  seeds  of  charity,  perhaps 
carelessly  and  unthinkingly  sown  by  us. 

As  he  sat  he  thought  of  the  many  things  he  would  do  for 
the  child.  She  should  go  to  school — she  should  have  nice 
clothes — and  books  and  toys — in  fact  she  should  be  happy. 

But  then  came  the  thought  of  her  mother,  also  the  subject 
of  his  care  and  a  deep  shade  fell  upon  his  open  brow.  "  Is 
it  possible,"  he  said,  to  himself,  "  that  her  days  are  so  few  ; 
can  no  skill  avail  her  ?"  And  then  his  thoughts  reverted  to 
Anna — her  earnest  tearful  look,  and  her  whispered  words 
before  she  left  him  that  night,  came  to  his  mind,  and  sighing, 
he  said,  "  poor  child  !  but  it  cannot  be  averted.  Her 
mother's  mind  is  wearing  out  her  body,  and  the  child  will 
be  left  an  orphan.  I  fear  it  is  so." 

Just  then  Bridget  came  in  to  see  that  all  was  safe  for  the 
night — but  seeing  the  doctor  so  comfortably  seated  by  the 
fire,  she  was  about  to  leave,  wondering  in  her  own  mind 
what  had  come  over  her  master,  that  he  should  sit  down 
quietly  by  the  fire  during  a  whole  evening.  But  he  called 
her  back,  saying  : 

"  Here,  Biddy,  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Nothin',  sir,  I  was  only  seein'  if  the  fire  was  safe,  sir." 

"  All  right,  Biddy  ;  I'll  attend  to  the  fire,  I  am  not  going 
iust  yet — I  say,  Biddy  ?" 

"  What  will  ye  have,  sir  ?" 


126       OLD     HAUN,     THE     P  A  W  N  B  E  O  K  E  B  . 

"  I  want  you  to  go  out  to-morrow  morning  and  buy  Anna 
a  new  bonnet,  and  some  shoes,  and  a  dress  for  her,  and  her 
mother  too.  Can  you  do  it  ?  She  needs  them.  Say 
Biddy — can  you  do  it  ?" 

"  Sure  I  can  do  that  and  a  great  deal  more,  too,  for  the 
dear  child,  bless  her  swate  face." 

"  Well,  attend  to  it  then,  and  here's  money  to  pay  for 
them,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  drew  out  a  well  worn  purse 
and  handed  her  a  note,  "  and  if  there's  not  enough  to  get 
all  the  things  come  to  me  for  more." 

"  Enough  1  I'll  be  bound  I'll  fit  her  out  like  a  quane,"  said 
Bridget,  with  a  broad  Irish  accent,  while  her  face  was 
radiant  with  smiles. 

"  No  finery  remember — but  good  plain  clothes,  and  stout 
shoes  for  Anna." 

"  Indade,  an'  I  know  what'll  plase  them,"  said  Bridget, 
as  she  left  the  room. 

Early  in  the  morning  Bridget  started  on  her  shopping 
excursion,  and  she  performed  her  mission  well.  Possibly 
prettier  patterns  might  have  been  selected,  or  a  bonnet  of 
later  style  purchased — but  these  were  in  Bridget's  mind 
points  of  little  importance.  Durability  and  warmth  were 
qualities  that  she  most  considered. 

Anna  received  her  presents  with  glistening  eyes,  and 
examined  them  with  trembling  hands.  She  first  drew  on 
the  warm  stockings  and  the  shoes,  and  was  delighted  with 
them.  She  then  put  on  the  new  bonnet,  and  its  crimson 
lining  cast  a  glow  upon  her  usually  pale  cheek.  She  next 


THE     GUARDIAN.  127 

wrapped  around  her  the  heavy  shawl,  and  when  enveloped 
in  its  ample  folds  her  joy  was  too  great  to  be  borne  alone. 

"  See,"  said  she,  to  her  mother,  who  was  reclining  on  the 
sofa,  and  who  had  been  observing  her  with  a  satisfied  look, 
"  See,  mother,  how  nice  and  warm  this  is." 

"  Yes,  my  child — I  hope  you  will  love  Doctor  Foster  very 
much  for  his  kindness  to  us.  That  is  all  you  can  do  in 
return." 

"  Mother  I  will — I  do.     Now,  mother,  you  are  crying." 

"  No  !  Anna,  I  am  not,  but  I  can  not  restrain  the  tears  of 
gratitude  that  will  fall  in  witnessing  the  kindness  of  the 
friend  that  God  has  raised  up  to  us." 

"  Ye're  right,  Mrs.  Hervey,  he's  the  kindest  man  that  ever 
lived,"  interrupted  Bridget, with  a  husky  voice  ;  "  he's  every 
one's  friend  ;  it's  the  Lord's  truth." 

"  Have  you  lived  with  him  long  ?"  inquired  Anna. 

"  It's  now  three  years  come  Easter,  since  I  came  to  live 
with  him,  and  never  a  cross  word  have  I  once  had  from  his 
head  ;  I  don't  know  where  I  could  find  another  home  like 
this,"  answered  Bridget. 

"  You  are  fortunate  in  having  so  good  a  place,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Hervey. 

"Ye  may  well  say  that  same  ;  but  I  mustn't  stand  here 
chattering  in  this  way,  or  ye'll  not  have  any  dinner  this  day  ; 
but,  Anna,  won't  it  do  the  docthor'-s  heart  good,  when  he  sees 
ye  wid  the  new  clothes  on  ;"  and  so  saying  Bridget  started 
away  to  attend  to  her  own  duties,  and  left  them  to  them- 
selves. 


128        OLD     HAUK,     THE     PAWNBKOKEK. 

Anna  endeavored  by  gentle  attentions  and  caresses,  and 
by  her  childish  conversation  to  dissipate  the  gloom  from  the 
face  of  her  mother,  and  thus  time  passed  till  the  doctor 
returned  to  his  meal.  He  fondled  Anna  for  a  little  time  ; 
was  delighted  with  the  additions  to  and  change  in  her  appa- 
rel, talked  with  her  mother,  advised  with  her,  gave  directions 
to  Bridget,  and  was  off  upon  his  ceaseless  round  of  duties. 

Day  succeeded  day  without  being  marked  by  any  parti- 
cular or  unusual  event.  Anna  often  thought  of  Mich,  and 
wished  she  could  see  him.  But  she  had  been  in  her  new 
abode  some  time  before  going  into  the  streets.  Now  that 
she  was  away  from  the  accustomed  walks  she  dared  not  go 
alone,  and  more  than  this — she  was  unwilling  to  leave  her 
mother,  when  she  might  sometimes  have  gone  with  Bridget. 
Her  patience  was  rewarded,  for  on  Christmas  eve,  after  the 
doctor  had  taken  his  supper,  he  said  : 

"  Anna,  put  on  your  things  and  go  with  me  and  take  a 
walk.  It  will  do  you  good." 

Anna  hesitated  and  looked  at  her  mother,  for  she  did  not 
like  to  leave  her  alone,  but  the  doctor  saw  the  glance,  and 
understood  its  meaning  and  said  : 

"  Biddy  can  sit  by  your  mother  while  you  are  gone. 
W  e'll  not  be  out  long.  Come,  be  quick,  on  with  the  new 
bonnet  and  shawl." 

Anna  hastened  to  obey  him,  and  soon  stood  in  readiness 
to  go,  saying  : 

"  I  am  ready,  sir." 

"  All  nice  and  warm  ?    Eh  !"  said  the  doctor. 


THE     GUABDIAN.  129 

"  Yes,  sir.  Biddy,  take  good  care  of  mother  when  I  am 
gone.  Good  bye,"  and  Anna  followed  the  doctor  out  of  the 
room. 

They  proceeded  down  Broadway,  the  air  was  piercing 
cold  ;  but  Anna  drew  her  thick  shawl  about  her  and  did  not 
feel  it.  Her  young  blood  coursed  rapidly  in  her  veins  as  she 
tried  to  keep  pace  with  the  steps  of  Doctor  Foster. 

A  merry  Christmas  Eve  it  was  to  many  a  light  heart. 
The  streets  and  shops  shone  brilliantly,  and  hurrying  feet 
went  rapidly  by. 

The  doctor  seemed  lost  in  thought.  He  had  hardly 
spoken  a  word  until  they  reached  Broadway,  and  had  gone 
some  distance,  and  then  he  seemed  to  become  conscious  of 
Anna's  presence  ;  he  walked  more  slowly,  to  allow  her  an 
opportunity  of  admiring  some  of  the  windows  filled  with 
dazzling  varieties.  They  came  to  one  more  showy  than 
the  others,  when  the  doctor  said  : 

"  Let  us  stop  a  minute  to  see  what  we  can  find  here." 

"  Oh  see,  is'nt  it  beautiful  1"  exclaimed  Anna. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  perhaps  you  would  like  to  go  in  and 
get  something  ?"  replied  the  doctor. 

"  Oh,  no,  you  have  bought  so  many  nice  things  for  me 
already,  I'd  rather  not." 

"  Well  then,  we'll  cross  over  here,  and  perhaps  we  may 
see  something  there  that  we  can  take  home  with  us,"  said 
the  doctor,  as  they  crossed  the  street  and  entered  a  confer 
tionery. 

"  Now  Anna,  what  shall  we  buy  ?'* 


130      OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Oh,  sir,  nothing  for  me." 

"Nothing!  why  child,  don't  you  like  candy?" 

"  Yes  sir,  I  used  to,  but  I  hav'nt  had  any  for  a  long  time." 

"  Well,  then,  you  shall  have  some  now." 

"  Please  sir," she  whispered  timidly. 

"  What  is  it,  child  ?  don't  be  afraid  to  tell  me  what  you 
want.  Perhaps  you  had  rather  have  a  doll." 

"  No,  sir,  not  that ;  but  if,  instead  of  candy,  you  would 
please  buy  something  for  mother,"  said  Anna,  coloring  at  her 
own  boldness. 

"Bless  your  little  heart.  She  shall  have  something 
and  you,  too.  What  shall  we  get  her.  Here  are  some 
nice  grapes,  just  the  thing  for  her.  What  do  you  say  ?" 

"  I  think  so." 

"  Now,  we'll  just  buy  one  of  those  beautiful  dolls,  for 
you  to  take  along  with  you,  and  then  we'll  leave."  Hav- 
ing selected  one,  and  had  it  put  up,  the  doctor  took  Anna 
by  the  hand,  and  they  started  out  again.  Soon  they  came 
to  a  book-store, 

"  Can  you  read,  Anna  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  my  mother  has  taught  me  to  read  and 
spell." 

"  Eight !  then,  you  must  have  a  book,  and  I  shall  want 
you  to  read  it  to  me." 

"  I  should  like  to,  but  I  think  you  are  buying  me  too 
many  things." 

"  Indeed  !  You  are  afraid  I  shall  spend  all  my  money, 
eh?  Is  that  it?" 


THE     GUARDIAN. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  suppose  you  have  a  great  deal  of  money  ; 
but  you  are  very  good  to  give  me  and  mother  all  of 
these." 

"  Well,  child,  you  belong  to  me  now,  and  while  I  live  you 
shall  share  with  me.  Now,  I  think,  a  warm  fire  would  feel 
comfortable  after  our  long  walk  in  the  cold  ;  so,  we'll  go 
towards  home."  So  saying  the  doctor  hurried  on  abstract- 
edly, and  in  silence,  till  he  abruptly  inquired  : 

"Anna,  who  was  that  ragged  boy  that  I  saw  with  you 
the  morning  I  called  ?" 

"  That,  sir  !     Oh,  that  was  Mich  Lynch." 

"  Mich  Lynch  1  who  is  he  ?" 

"  He  lived  near  to  us  ;  and  his  mother  is  poor.  He  used 
to  help  me  sometimes,  and  went  with  me  one  day  when  I 
sold  matches,  and  when  I  sold  mamma's  locket,  too." 

"  Locket  1  who  did  you  sell  the  locket  to  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  his  name  is,  but  he  keeps  a  shop  up 
in  this  part  of  the  city  ;  I  think  they  call  it  Chatham  street  ; 
Mich  would  know." 

"  Where  does  Mich  live  then  ?" 

"  I  could  find  it  from  our  old  home,  but  I  don't  know  the 
way  from  here." 

"  Well,  I  must  go  with  you  some  day  to  find  him.  He 
has  done  so  much  for  you  ;  but  I  should  like  to  hear  some- 
thing more  of  him — you  can  tell  me  as  we  are  going  along 
home." 

Anna  very  gladly  commenced  with  the  first  tune  she  had 
eeen  Mich,  and  told  everything  concerning  him  that  sho 


132      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBKOKEK. 

knew.  She  told  of  his  kindness  to  her,  of  his  own  poverty, 
and  of  his  mother,  and  her  sick  baby,  in  fact,  every  little 
incident  of  their  short  intimacy  ;  and  by  the  time  they  had 
reached  home,  the  doctor  had  conceived  quite  an  interest  in 
Anna's  humble  friend,  and  remarked  as  they  entered  their 
house : 

"  Perhaps  we'll  see  him  again  some  day." 

Anna  rushed  to  her  mother,  and  handed  her  the  grapes 
she  had  brought,  without  waiting  to  remove  her  shawl  and 
bonnet,  saying,  as  she  did  so  : 

"  Here's  something  nice  for  you — only  taste  them." 

"  Are  they  for  me  ?"  Mrs.  Hervey  inquired. 

"  Yes,  all  for  you — every  one,  that  is  if  the  doctor  doesn't 
want  any." 

"  No,  the  doctor  don't  want  any  ;  you  and  I,  you  know, 
have  got  something  better,"  said  he,  holding  up  the  candies. 

"  Oh  yes  ;  and  see,  mother,  just  see  this  beautiful  doll, 
and  this  book,  and  candies." 

"  I  hope  Doctor  Foster  will  not  indulge  my  little  girl  too 
much,"  remarked  Mrs.  Hervey. 

"  Oh,  it  is  Christmas,  you  know,  and  that  comes  but  once 
a  year,"  said  the  doctor,  chuckling. 

It  would  have  been  difficult  to  determine  which  was 
happiest,  the  child  with  her  gifts,  or  he  in  witnessing  her 
pleasure. 

Would  that  the  ingenuousness  and  trusting  love  of  child- 
hood might  be  retained  through  life.  But  with  years  comes 
the  knowledge  of  unworthiness,  often  in  those  we  most 


THE     GUARDIAN.  133 

esteem — and  then  the  warm  affections  which  would  have 
twined  around  the  objects  of  our  lore  are  chilled,  and  we 
realize  the  bitter  thought  that  there  is  nothing  lasting  but 
eternity ! 


134:      OLD     HA.TJN,     THE     PA.WNBKOK.EB. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CORNELL  LEAVES  NEW  YORK. 

AFTER  Cornell  had  dispatched  to  New  Orleans  the  letters 
written  by  Haun  and  himself,  he  gave  himself  up  to  dissipa- 
tion and  pleasure.  He  made  no  farther  attempt,  or  even 
demonstration  of  continuing  his  search.  His  conscience 
would  sometimes  reproach  him  for  what  he  had  done,  but  he 
would  quickly  stifle  its  voice,  quieting  himself  with  the 
thought  that  those  injured,  even  if  living,  would  never  know 
their  wrongs. 

He  waited  impatiently  for  an  answer,  not  doubting  that 
his  immediate  return  would  be  urged,  when  Leonard  should 
learn  that  he  had  no  other  relative  on  whom,  in  his  feeble 
health  he  could  lean  as  a  friend. 

A  visit  was  occasionally  made  to  the  pawnbroker,  and 
what  respect  was  formerly  entertained  by  him  for  that 
worthy  and  excellent  individual,  was  rapidly  dissipating,  as 
he,  from  .time  to  time,  became  more  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  peculiarities  of  disposition  of  his  newly  found 
friend. 


COENELL  LEAVES  NEW  YORK.    135 

Cornell  expected  to  leave  for  the  South.  He  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  go,  and  held  himself  in  readiness.  Still  no 
letter  came.  He  was  becoming  discontented,  nervous,  and 
irritable — found  less  enjoyment  hi  the  daily  amusements  in 
which  he  had  formerly  engaged  with  so  much  zeal.  The 
winter  was  passing,  he  wanted  to  see  New  Orleans  once 
more — in  fact  he  was  homesick.  The  post  office  was  visited 
daily,  and  often  many  times  a  day,  with  the  vain  hope  that 
a  letter  for  him  might  have  been  overlooked  or  misplaced. 
It  was  now  the  last  of  January,  and  he  had  everything  in 
readiness  to  start.  He  went  once  more,  and  fortune  favored 
him — the  letter  came.  He  grasped  it  eagerly — glanced  at 
the  post  mark  and  at  the  superscription — the  latter  was 
strange  to  him.  He  tore  it  open.  The  letter  was  from 
Leonard,  but  not  written  with  his  own  hand.  Leonard  was 
dangerously  sick — the  immediate  presence  of  Cornell  was 
desired — a  pang  shot  through  his  heart,  but  he  nerved  him- 
self, and  returned  to  his  hotel  to  learn  the  exact  tune  of  the 
departure  of  the  next  public  conveyance  south.  He  found 
that  he  should  have  a  little  spare  time,  and  thodght  he  had 
better  go  and  have  an  interview  with  the  pawnbroker  before 
his  final  departure. 

It  was  with  a  sad  face  and  heavy  heart  that  he  walked 
slowly  along  towards  the  pawnbroker's  shop.  He  regretted 
the  step  he  had  taken,  and  thought  how  much  better  it 
would  have  been,  had  he  waited  for  the  free  gift  of  his 
friend,  honestly  and  fearlessly  received,  than  the  thousands 
that  he  might  obtain  by  fraud — the  thousands  that  he  could 


136      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

never  enjoy  in  peace,  so  long  as  his  secret  was  shared  by 
another. 

Cornell  had  not  naturally  a  bad  heart.  He  was  impulsive 
and  quick  to  resolve,  without  proper  reflection,  and  easily 
influenced  by  others;  but  he  was  not  hardened  in  vice,  or 
utterly  insensible  to  the  appeals  of  a  better  nature.  Enter- 
ing, he  said,  soberly,  and  with  less  of  brusquerie  in  his  man- 
ner than  usual: 

"  Haun,  I'm  off  for  the  south." 

"  You  !  Have  you  heard  from  him  ?" 

"  No,  not  from  him,  but  from  one  who  has  written  for 
him." 

"  Some  one  written  for  him  ?  You  don't  mean  a  lawyer 
do  you  ?  You  don't  suppose  he  has  any  suspicion  ?" 

"No,  the  letter  was  from  his  housekeeper.  Leonard  is 
dangerously  sick  and  wants  me  to  hasten  back." 

"Oh!  oh!  is  that  all.  Why  did'nt  you  speak  out  at 
once,"  said  Haun,  drawing  a  long  breath.  "You  almost 
scared  me.  I  thought  something  had  broke  loose,  and  that 
the  ten  thousand  dollars  was  in  danger;  but  it's  right  the 
other  way,  and  I'll  get  it  sooner  than  I  thought  for.  Ain't 
you  a  lucky  dog  ?  If  the  old  man  dies  you've  nothing  to  do 
but  just  go  down,  take  possession  (because  you're  sure  to 
get  it  if  these  others  don't  turn  up),  pay  me  my  share,  and 
live  like  a  prince.  But  had  he  received  the  letters  ?" 

"  She  does  not  mention,  but  I  presume  he  had,  for  nothing 
is  said  of  his  sister,  and  she  wrote  at  his  dictation." 

"  Well,  then,  you'll  have  no  trouble.     He  must  have  given 


CORNELL  LEAVES  NEW  YOKE.    137 

up  all  hope  of  seeing  her,  and  you  may  thank  me  for  half 
of  your  luck." 

"  Yes,  thank  you  for  breaking  the  poor  old  man's  heart, 
for  I  have  not  a  doubt  your  letter  has  done  it.  He  has  so 
long  indulged  the  hope  of  seeing  his  sister,  that  the  sudden 
disappointment  has  been  too  much  for  him  to  bear.  What 
devils  we  are  to  deceive  him  so.  I  wish  I  had  not  done  it," 
said  Cornell,  sighing. 

"  How  tender-hearted  you  have  become.  Hurry  on,  and 
you  may  not  be  too  late  even  now,  to  save  him.  Tell  him 
that  you  were  only  lying  to  him  in  order  that  you  might  get 
his  money.  I  have  no  doubt  he  would  forgive  you  at  once, 
It  would  be  perfectly  natural  that  he  should — men  are  so 
fond  of  being  cheated  and  deceived.  Or,  if  he  shouldn't 
forgive  you,  and  should  insist  on  being  crusty  on  account  of 
your  slight  indiscretion,  and  should  will  his  estate  away  to 
some  hospital,  or  charity  school,  why,  you'll  only  have  to  go 
to  work — and  you  know  that's  nothing — you  love  to  work. 
Well,  I  hope  you  will  reap  the  usual  reward  of  repentance. 
Go,  before  it  is  too  late,"  said  Haun  sarcastically. 

"  Association  with  you  is  not  likely  to  induce  one  to 
repent,  except  of  the  company  he  has  kept.  You  may  sneer, 
but  I  am  not  afraid  to  say  I  only  wish  the  letters  had  never 
been  written.  But  it  is  too  late;  and  besides,  his  sister  may 
be  dead,  for  aught  we  know,  and  what  should  I  benefit  any 
one  then  by  telling  him.  I  should  only  lose  all  chance  my- 
self of  getting  anything,  for  I  know  Leonard  too  well  to 
expect  that  he'd  ever  forgive  such  treatment.  There's  no 


138       OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

other  way.  So  I'll  just  let  it  go  as  it  is,  and  wait  to  see 
what  comes  next,"  said  Cornell,  talking  partly  to  himself, 
and  yet,  so  that  he  could  oe  heard,  without  heeding  Harm's 
presence. 

"  Now  you  begin  to  talk  like  a  sensible  man,"  interrupted 
Haun. 

"  Well,  well,  there's  no  use  in  crying  for  spilt  milk.  So, 
old  fellow,  good-bye.  I  intend  to  keep  my  part  of  the 
bargain,  and  mind  that  you  keep  yours,  and  a  close 
mouth,  and  don't  trouble  yourself  too  much  about  my 
matters." 

"  It  will  be  all  right  if  you  do  that  ;  but  if  not,  you 
might,  perhaps,  hear  from  me  again." 

Cornell  did  not  stop  to  answer,  but  left  the  shop  and 
retraced  his  steps  to  his  hotel,  where  he  completed  his 
necessary  arrangements,  and  at  seven  that  evening  left  for 
the  South. 

Night  and  day  he  travelled,  hurried  on  by  some  vague 
and  indefinable  feeling.  Often  the  desire  to  undo  the 
wrong  he  had  committed,  was  so  strong  within  him,  that  had 
he  been  in  the  presence  of  Leonard,  all  would  have  been 
confessed.  He  felt  ill  at  ease,  and  shunned  the  society  of 
his  fellow-travellers.  He  had  only  looked  at  the  goal,  with- 
out measuring  the  long  road  of  guilt  that  he  was  to  journey 
over  to  reach  it.  But  now  that  he  had  taken  the  first  step, 
he  felt  guilty — condemned.  His  own  conscience  stood  like 
a  monitor,  silently  pointing  to  the  base  act  that  he  had  com- 
mitted in  betraying  his  friend.  Day  and  night  he  felt  its 


CORNELL  LEAVES  NEW  YOKE.    139 

upbraidings,  and,  therefore,  hurried  011,  more  and  more 
resolved  to  make  a  full  confession  of  his  duplicity,  regardless 
of  consequences. 

He  had  come  to  this  determination  before  his  interview 
with  Haun,  but  the  jeers  of  the  latter  had  caused  him  to 
reconsider  his  good  resolution,  and  finally  to  persevere 
determinedly  in  the  accomplishment  of  the  plot  which  he 
had  laid  ;  but  when  removed  from  the  evil  influences  thus 
exerted  over  him,  his  better  genius  prevailed,  and  he 
relented. 

Had  he  been  permitted  to  see  his  friend  alive,  and  to 
have  been  met,  as  of  old,  with  kindness,  Cornell  would  cer- 
tainly have  swerved  from  his  wicked  purpose.  He  could 
not  have  persisted  had  he  heard  the  sick  man  mourn  for  his 
only  sister,  and  regret  his  own  sinful  folly  in  letting  her  live 
separate  from  him,  her  brother — perhaps  in  misery — while 
he  had  an  abundance. 

It  was  undeniable  that  the  information  contained  in  those 
letters  had  been  the  blow  that  had  struck  down  the  old  man 
and  brought  him  to  the  grave.  He  was  the  last  of  his  name 
— none  remained.  He  had  hoped  to  clasp  his  sister  once 
more  in  his  arms,  and  to  seek  her  forgiveness  for  his  past 
harshness  and  unbrotherly  behavior,  but  she  was  not  there  ; 
she  had  already  gone  before  him,  and  died  without  forgiving 
him.  Cornell,  too,  whom  he  had  taken  and  cherished  as  his 
own  child,  clothed,  fed,  sheltered,  and  loved,  he  too,  was 
away,  and  there  was  not  one  of  his  kindred  to  close  the  eyes 
of  the  dying  man. 


140     OLD     H  A  U  N  ,     THE     PAWNBBOKEK. 

This,  and  much  beside,  that  occurred  during  the  last 
hours  of  his  relative,  was  communicated  to  Cornell  by  the 
faithful  and  mourning  housekeeper.  He  listened  eagerly  to 
every  little  incident  of  his  last  illness,  and  bitterly  regretted 
the  act  which  had  made  him  the  sole  heir  of  his  cousin;  for, 
by  the  terms  of  the  will  made  several  years  previously,  all 
the  property  of  the  deceased,  both  real  and  personal,  devised 
to  Cornell ;  but,  in  case  of  his  sister  being  living,  the  whole 
of  the  same  was  to  go  to  her,  or  to  her  issue,  excepting  a 
legacy  of  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  Cornell. 

He  repented,  and  would  even  then,  when  he  saw  the  pro- 
perty for  which  he  had  sinned,  almost  in  his  possession,  have 
returned  it  to  the  lawful  claimant,  if  she  had  appeared,  but 
she  did  not,  and  so  time  healed  his  wounds,  and  he  became 
accustomed  to  the  luxuries  which  wealth  can  command,  and 
to  the  respect  which  it  exacts  from  the  cringing  multitude, 
and  then  his  good  intentions  died.  He  hardened  his  heart 
and  shut  up  the  secret  in  his  own  breast,  the  secret  that 
had,  even  as  he  gazed  upon  the  pale  face  and  closed  eyes 
of  his  benefactor,  trembled  on  his  lips.  But  it  was  too 
late. 

Cornell  claimed  as  sole  heir  under  the  will,  and  after  a 
short  delay  and  the  necessary  proof,  which  was  carelessly 
gone  through  with,  and  more  as  a  mere  matter  of  form  than 
otherwise,  his  claim  was  recognized  and  established  ;  in 
fact,  there  was  no  one  to  dispute  or  deny  it,  for  the 
deceased's  own  statements  were  proven  for  the  purpose  of 
establishing  the  fact,  that  there  was  no  other  person  living 


CORNELL     LEAVES     NEW     YOEK.         141 

competent  to  claim  as  heir,  and  so  the  will  was  admitted  to 
probate,  and  Cornell,  the  dependant  Cornell,  became  lord 
over  thousands. 

With  all  proper  show  of  respect  and  attention,  the  body 
was  laid  in  its  last  resting-place.  Cornell  exhibited  no 
unusual  haste  or  desire  to  appropriate  the  coveted  property 
to  himself,  but  everything  was  done  decently  and  in  order, 
and  so  he  took  possession  quietly  and  unostentatiously.  As 
time  passed  on,  his  old  acquaintances  sought  him  out,  and 
he  lavished  money  freely  ;  he  was  liberal  and  generous 
without  counting  cost  or  looking  to  the  end.  He  made  also 
many  new  friends,  who  basked  in  the  sunshine  of  his  favors, 
and  he  was  by  all  considered  a  fortunate  and  a  happy 
man. 

And  now  that  he  had  come  into  full  possession  of  the 
estate,  success  had  given  him  confidence,  and  he  began  to 
weigh  in  his  mind  the  possibility  of  releasing  himself  from 
his  obligation  to  Haun — the  ten  thousand  dollars  promised 
as  his  share  in  the  venture.  True  he  had  received  ten  times 
that  amount,  but  it  was  mostly  in  real  estate  and  in  negroes, 
all  valuable,  but  not  so  immediately  productive,  and  ten 
thousand  dollars  was  a  large  sum  for  him  to  pay  without 
inconvenience.  He  debated  in  Ms  own  mind  the  policy  of 
refusing  payment  to  Haun,  and  resolved  to  seek  legal  advice 
as  to  the  validity  of  the  bond  he  had  executed.  Weighing 
the  matter  in  his  mind,  he  determined,  however,  rather  than 
come  to  an  open  rupture  with  his  partner,  he  would  compro- 
mise but  finally  concluded  that  he  could  not  spare  any 


142     OLD     H  A  TJ  N  ,     THE     PAWNBEOKEB. 

money,  and  that  he  would  withhold  the  consideration  of  the 
bond,  and  if  possible  resist  its  collection.  If  Cornell  had 
received  twice  the  amount  that  he  really  did,  he  undoubtedly 
would  have  felt  the  same.  This  is  human  nature.  He  could 
not  bear  the  idea  of  diminishing  his  estate  by  parting  with 
such  a  sum,  aside  from  the  great  inconvenience  that  it 
would  occasion  him.  Therefore,  from  hesitating  and  doubt- 
ing, he  finally  resolved  not  to  pay  Haun  the  ten  thousand 
dollars,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  it  had  been  through 
his  assistance  that  the  plot  had  been  carried  into  successful 
operation,  and  he  did  not  believe  that  Haun  would  ever  be 
able  to  discover  the  legal  heirs,  in  which  case  he  would  have 
nothing  to  fear.  He  himself  had  searched  in  vain,  and  he 
did  not  believe  another  could  be  more  successful.  And  so, 
from  thinking  of  the  matter,  and  wishing  that  it  might  be 
so,  Cornell  finally  satisfied  himself  that  it  was  so,  and  that 
the  legal  heir  was  dead,  and  so  determined  to  retain  all  that 
had  come  into  his  possession,  and  to  part  with  none  of  it 
except  to  gratify  his  own  sensual  wants,  and  to  minister  to 
his  own  pleasures. 

He  could  not,  however,  banish  from  his  mind  an  inde- 
finable dread — he  was  not  at  ease.  Although  he  had 
resolved  and  marked  out  his  course  of  action,  still  he  vacil- 
lated, knowing  that  the  pawnbroker  was  a  man  of  iron  nerve, 
and  one  not  lightly  turned  from  his  object.  But  he  had 
determined  one  thing,  and  that  was  not  to  pay  the  money  ; 
but  another  thing  he  had  not  yet  settled,  and  that  was  how 
to  avoid  the  payment.  Thus  time  passed,  when  after  the 


CORNELL     LEAVES     NEW     YORK.  143 

lapse  of  a  few  months  from  the  day  of  his  taking  possession, 
he  received  from  New  York  a  letter — opening  it  he  read  as 
follows  : 

"  NEW  YORK,  March  IZth,  18— 

"  M"x  DKAR  SIR  : — I  cannot  delay  writing,  for  the  purpose  of  offer- 
ing my  sympathy  in  your  terrible  affliction.  To  have  lost  so  kind  a 
friend  must  deeply  affect  you.  But  while  expressing  my  grief  at  your 
loss,  you  will  not  deny  me  the  opportunity  of  referring  to  that  little 
business  transaction  which  you  will  recollect ;  I  am  much  in  want  of 
the  funds  at  present  and  am  very  positive  that  I  shall  receive  a  remit- 
tance within  sixty  days  from  this  date.  I  presume  you  will  be  pleased 
to  learn  that  your  friends  here,  whom  you  feared  might  be  dead,  are 
still  li ving,  notwithstanding  the  report  of  their  death  which  was  erro- 
neously circulated. 

"  Waiting  for  an  answer  I  am  your  constant  friend — 

"CARLOS  HAUN." 

Cornell  was  alone  in  his  room  when  he  opened  the  letter, 
he  had  noticed  the  post  mark  when  taking  it  from  the  ser- 
vant, and  had  waited  impatiently  for  him  to  leave,  before 
opening  it.  After  reading  the  first  lines  of  mocking  con- 
dolence, he  threw  it  violently  from  him,  he  then  as  quickly 
caught  it  up  and  perused  it  to  the  end,  and  then  tore  it 
into  fragments  and  holding  the  pieces  into  the  light  of  a 
taper  saw  them  quickly  consumed.  He  understood  perfectly 
the  allusion  contained  in  the  last  lines  and  it  was  that,  which 
troubled  him.  He  thought  to  himself,  "  what  if  he  has  dis- 
covered them  since  my  departure."  Then  he  began  to  con- 
sider discretion  the  better  part  of  valor,  and  thought  per- 
haps he  had  better  make  an  attempt  to  compromise  the 


144      OLD     H  A  TJ  N  ,     THE     PAWNBKOKEK. 

matter  with  Haun  rather  than  to  have  an  open  rupture, 
because  he  could  not  learn  and  did  not  know  how  far  he 
was  in  Haun's  power.  And  then  again,  it  occurred  to  him 
that  what  would  kill  one  would  kill  the  other.  That  what- 
ever would  prevent  his  retaining  the  property,  would  also 
prevent  Haun  obtaining  any  part  of  it.  But  he  was  doubt- 
ful as  yet,  how  far  Haun  would  sacrifice  interest  to  the 
gratification  of  revenge,  and  so  revolving  the  matter  in  his 
mind,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it -would  do  no  harm  at 
any  rate,  and  might  be  of  some  advantage,  to  answer  Haun's 
letter — acting  upon  this  determination,  he  wrote  as  follows  : 

"  NEW  ORLEANS,  April  10th,  18 — 
"  CARLOS  HAITN,  New  York. 

"  DEAR  SIR  : — I  have  just  received  your  letter  and  duly  con- 
sidered its  contents.  As  to  the  expression  of  your  sympathy  for  me, 
I  wish  it  were  half  as  sincere  as  my  grief  at  the  loss  of  my  friend  ;  I 
am  ready  to  perform  my  agreement  so  far  as  I  find  myself  able  :  I  can- 
not advance  you  the  amount  at  first  spoken  of,  but  still  I  will  do  what 
is  right,  so  that  you  shall  be  well  paid  for  your  trouble,  and  on  receipt 
from  you  of  the  bond  which  I  gave  you,  I  will  enclose  one  thousand 
dollars.  If  this  proposition  is  satisfactory  to  you,  please  let  me  know 
at  once. 

"Yours,  etc., 

"JAMES  CORNELL." 

Having  dispatched  his  letter,  the  writer  banished  the  sub- 
ject from  his  thoughts  as  an  unpleasant  matter  that  he  did 
not  wish  to  entertain. 

He  surrounded  himself  with  all  the  luxuries  that  wealth 


CORNEL  L      LEAVES      N  E  W     Y  O  E  K  .         145 

could  command,  as  if  attempting  to  condense  iuto  each  day 
of  his  life  the  utmost  possible  enjoyment.  Every  sense  was 
gratified  till  sated  with  excess.  Excitement  was  what  he 
craved;  and  in  it  he  succeeded,  for  a  time,  in  drowning 
remorse  for  the  past,  and  in  banishing  all  fear  for  the  future. 

And  now,  where  was  Mich  all  of  this  time  ?  Why,  not- 
withstanding many  blunders  and  mistakes,  he  had  made 
himself  so  useful  in  his  new  vocation,  that  doctor  Marsh 
would  not  on  any  account  have  parted  with  him.  Active, 
honest,  and  punctual  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties,  and 
withal  anxious  to  please,  he  had  made  himself  indispensable 
to  his  employer. 

As  great  a  change,  too,  had  been  wrought  in  his  personal 
appearance.  One  would  scarcely  have  been  able  to  recog- 
nize in  the  smart  looking,  well-dressed  boy  who,  on  the  first 
of  April  drove  up  the  horse  of  the  popular  physician,  the 
Mich  who  has  already  made  his  appearance  before  the  reader. 
But  it  certainly  was  he — a  little  personal  attention  with  an 
improvement  in  his  apparel  had  worked  the  change.  He 
was  a  proud  and  happy  boy  in  being  able  to  assist  his  mother, 
besides  providing  for  his  own  limited  wants.  Nothing  was 
bought  unnecessarily,  except  now  and  then  a  book ;  but  his 
own  earnings  had  been  added  to  the  little  his  mother  had 
been  able  to  obtain,  and  they  secured  a  comfortable  tene- 
ment and  furnished  it  with  some  few  articles  of  utility 
The  vision  of  the  alms-house  or  starvation  was  not  forever 
haunting  her,  and  Mrs.  Lynch's  sad  face  wore  a  more  cheer- 
ful look. 


146      OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

Mich  had  not  by  any  means  forgotten  his  former  friend 
Anna.  He  often  wondered  what  could  have  become  of  her — 
where  she  could  have  disappeared  so  suddenly.  As  each  day's 
engagements  brought  to  him  the  same  routine  of  employ- 
ment, he  was  always  on  the  watch  for  her,  and  whenever 
groups  of  children  passed  him  he  would  gaze  wistfully  into 
their  faces,  and  wonder  where  Anna  could  have  gone.  He 
had  become  attached  to  her  with  a  boyish  fondness,  for  she 
had  been  the  only  one  with  whom  he  had  been  on  terms  of 
intimacy,  and  he,  being  a  stranger  among  strangers,  could 
not  but  let  his  thoughts  revert  to  her. 

The  expectation  of  ever  seeing  her  again  was  gradually 
growing  fainter,  when,  on  a  certain  day,  as  he  was  putting 
in  order  his  employer's  office,  a  man  entered  and  inquired  for 
doctor  Marsh.  Mich  turned  quickly  when  he  heard  the  voice, 
for  its  tone  was  familiar  to  him ;  but  the  person  was  a  stran- 
ger to  him.  He  did  not  immediately  answer,  but  tried  to 
recall  the  time  and  place  where  he  had  once  seen  the  visitor, 
and  unconsciously  stood  staring  him  in  the  face  He  was 
aroused  from  his  reverie  by  a  repetition  of  the  question: 

"  Say,  boy,  where  is  doctor  Marsh  ?" 

"  He'll  be  in  directly,  sir." 

"Well,  why  couldn't  you  answer  me  at  first,  instead  of 
stopping  to  stare  at  me  ?" 

"  I  beg  you'll  excuse  the  rudeness  ;  but  I  thought  your 
face  was  known  to  me." 

"  Humph!  Very  likely."  Just  then  Doctor  Marsh  entered, 
and  saluting  his  visitor,  extended  his  hand,  saying  :  • 


CORNELL  LEAVES  HEW   YORK.    147 

"  Good  morning,  Doctor  Foster — quite  a  stranger — take  a 
seat.  Mich,  stir  the  fire — rather  cool  for  a  spring  day. 
What's  the  news  with  you,  doctor  ?" 

"Nothing  of  importance;  but  I  want  to  get  you  to  go 
with  me  and  see  a  patient  of  mine.  Will  you  go  ?" 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  glad  to  oblige  you." 

"  Well,  will  you  go  now  ?  Don't  expect  you  can  do  the 
man  any  good ;  but  it  will  satisfy  the  friends  to  have  you  see 
him." 

"Yes,  I  can  go  now  as  well  as  any  time.  Mich,  go  and 
bring  around  the  carriage." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Mich,  as  he  darted  off. 

"  Humph  !  carriage  !  Your  patients  pay  better  than 
mine  do  if  you  can  afford  to  keep  your  carriage  and  servant," 
8aid  Doctor  Foster. 

"  I  won't  practise  for  those  who  won't  pay.  My  time  is 
my  capital,  and  I  make  it  bring  me  good  interest." 

"  Humph,"  grunted  Doctor  Foster,  as  he  walked  uneasily 
to  and  fro  through  the  room.  This  was  all  the  notice  he 
took  of  this  last  remark.  Soon  Doctor  Marsh  asked  him  the 
particulars  of  the  case  upon  which  his  opinion  was  desired, 
which  he  gave  with  precision;  and  while  he  was  talking  upon 
the  subject  Mich  entered,  saying: 

"  Ready,  sir,"  and  then  left  the  room,  and  the  physicians 
followed.  When  they  were  seated  in  the  carriage,  Mich 
handed  the  reins  to  Doctor  Marsh  and  asked: 

"  Shall  I  go  ?" 

"  Yes,  up  quick,  Mich." 


148       OLD      HAUN,      THE      PAWNBROKER. 

And  up  he  jumped  as  agile  as  a  young  squirrel,  and  they 
started  on.  They  soon  came  to  a  part  of  the  city  which 
was  more  particularly  Doctor  Foster's  field  of  practice.  The 
poor — the  humble — the  laboring  men  were  the  subjects  of 
his  care.  Sometimes  they  were  able  to  pay,  but  oftener  not. 
This  made  no  difference  to  him.  His  time  and  skill  were 
freely  given.  He  had,  fortunately,  secured  sufficient  to  ena- 
ble him  to  live  independently  of  his  practice;  but  he  clung 
to  it  as  a  means  of  doing  good.  After  riding  along  for  some 
tune  in  silence,  Doctor  Marsh  said: 

"  Why  will  you  squander  your  talents  upon  the  herd  that 
swarm  here?  Why,  Foster,  your  skill  and  ability  would 
command  a  fortune  among  respectable  people." 

"  Respectable  people  !  I  presume  our  ideas  of  respecta- 
bility differ  much.  I  consider  the  man  respectable  who,  by 
honest  toil  earns  his  own  bread,  though  he  be  clad  in  sack- 
cloth, and  tread  with  weary  feet  the  long  way  to  his  humble 
home.  You  call  him  respectable  who  dresses  in  fine  linen 
and  fares  sumptuously  every  day.  Thank  God  I  do  not 
forget  that  I  was  once  poor  myself." 

"  Your  remarks  are  very  caustic.  You  seem  to  have  more 
feeling  on  the  subject  than  I  had  supposed." 

"  Yes,  I  am  free  to  acknowledge  that  my  feeling  and  sym- 
pathies are  with  the  honest  toiling  poor." 

"  Well  1  Foster,  I  admit  my  notions  would  not  be  popular, 
but  I  must  confess  that  I  do  not  like  contact  with  this  sort 
of  people.  They  seem  to  smell  of  garlic,  particularly  all 
foreigners,  and  I  dou?t  fancy  it." 


CORNELL     LEAVES     NEW     YORK.  149 

"  Humph  !  that  may  do  for  yon,  but  jiot  for  me ;  it  is 
fortunate  that  we  are  not  all  so  delicately  constituted,  or 
there  are  many  people  who  would  suffer.  Marsh,  you  are 
fond  of  luxuries,  and  would  be  unhappy  without  them  :  to  me 
they  are  of  no  importance.  I  take  the  world  as  it  was 
made  before  it  was  spoiled  by  art." 

By  this  tune  they  had  reached  their  destination.  They 
stopped  and  entered,  leaving  Mich  seated  in  the  carriage. 
While  they  were  absent  his  brain  was  busy.  He  had  listen- 
ed to  the  conversation  of  the  gentlemen  as  they  rode  along, 
and  it  had  aroused  his  curiosity.  Ho  felt  more  and  more 
confident  that  he  had  before  met  or  seen  Doctor  Foster,  but 
where  or  when  he  could  not  determine.  He  had  seen  many 
strangers  since  he  had  been  in  the  employ  of  Dr.  Marsh  that 
he  could  not  discriminate.  Yet  it  was  not  as  some  stranger 
whom  he  had  casually  seen,  but  there  was  something  con- 
nected with  the  face  or  voice  of  Doctor  Foster,  that  created 
in  the  mind  of  Mich  an  indefinable  desire  to  satisfy  himself 
of  the  time  and  place,  but  the  more  he  tried,  the  less  able 
was  he  to  resolve  the  matter,  and  so  gave  it  up  for  the  pres- 
ent. 

After  being  absent  for  a  short  time  the  physicians  re-ap- 
peared. Dr.  Marsh  insisted  upon  his  companion  riding 
along  with  him  as  far  his  office,  which  Doctor  Foster  at  first 
declined,  but  finally  consented  in  his  characteristic  manner  : 

"  Ride  1     Well,  I  will  to  please  you,  but  I'd  rather  walk." 

Doctor  Marsh  turned  his  horse's  head  homeward,  and  pro- 


150      OLD     HA  UN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

ceeding  by  a  different  route  than  that  by  which  they  had 
come  :  they  entered  the  street  in  which  Anna  Hervey  had 
so  long  lived.  Mich  no  sooner  saw  the  familiar-looking 
places  than  every  circumstance  of  his  acquaintance  with 
Anna  came  rushing  upon  his  memory,  and  on  the  tide  was 
borne  the  scene  in  the  stairway  when  he  had  last  seen  her, 
and  in  an  instant,  he  recognized  Dr.  Foster.  It  occurred  to 
him  at  once  when  and  where  he  had  met  him. 

As  they  drove  past  the  darkened  and  smoky  tenement, 
Mich  gazed  at  it,  and  up  at  the  attic  window,  and  then 
turned  to  gaze  after  they  had  passed,  till  Doctor  Foster 
noticing  his  earnest  look,  and  not  himself  observing  their 
locality  remarked — 

"  What  do  you  see,  boy  ?" 

"  Nothin'  at  all,  sir,  only  the  ould  house." 

"  Whose  old  house  ?"  inquired  the  doctor. 

"  Only  a  frind,  sir,  that  I  used  to  know." 

' '  Then  you  recollect  your  friends,  do  you  ?" 

"  Fa'th,  sir,  it's  not  a  poor  boy  like  meself  that's  likely  to 
have  so  many  frinds  he  can't  remember  them  all." 

"  Humph  !  some  truth  in  that  I've  no  doubt,  but  what's 
your  name  ?" 

"Me  name's  Mich  Lynch,  sir." 

"  Eh  ?  Mich  Lynch,  and  what  was  the  name  of  the  friend 
you  used  to  know  there,"  inquired  Doctor  Foster  with  some 
eagerness. 

"  Her  name  was  Anna  Hervey." 


CORNELL  LEAVES  NEW  YORK.    151 

"  Remarkable,"  ejaculated  the  Doctor. 

"  Yis,  ye're  honor,  she  was  that  same,  and  a  tinder-hearted 
creature  beside." 

"  I  say  its  remarkable  that  I  should  have  happened  to 
come  across  Mich  Lynch,  Anna's  friend.  I  tell  you,  boy,  she'll 
be  glad  to  hear  of  you." 

"  Indade,  sir,  is  it  possible  that  ye  know  where  she  is  ?" 

"  I  know  where  she  was  not  an  hour  ago." 

"  An'  ye  won't  be  afther  denyin'  me  the  favor  I'm  askin' 
of  ye  to  tell  me  where  she  is." 

"  She's  at  home  of  course,  nursing  her  sick  mother." 

"  And  that's  the  very  thing  I'd  be  glad  to  know,  where  is 
her  home  ?" 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  she  lives  with  me,  and  if  Doctor 
Marsh  will  spare  you  for  a  few  minutes,  you  shall  go  with 
me  and  see  her  awhile,"  said  Doctor  Foster,  as  he  alighted 
at  the  door  of  his  own  office. 

The  consent  was  readily  given,  and  the  two  started  for 
the  residence  of  Dr.  Foster.  Mich  could  hardly  restrain 
himself,  or  wait  for  the  slow  pace  of  the  doctor,  or  answer 
his  interrogatories  as  they  moved  along. 

"  So  you're  the  boy  that  used  to  help  my  little  girl  occa- 
sionally. You're  the  one  that  sold  matches  with  her  ?  eh  ! 
Great  business  that,  for  her  to  go  peddling  matches," 
grunted  the  doctor. 

"  Did  ye  say  she  was  livin'  wid  ye  ?"  asked  Mich. 

"  Live  with  me  1  more  like  I  live  with  her.  I  couldn't  get 
along  without  her." 


152      OLD     II A  UN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Och  !  thin,  God  bless  ye.  I  was  afraid  she'd  beeu 
sufferin'  wid  hunger  since  she  left  the  ould  house,"  Mich 
answered  gratefully.  The  knowledge  that  Anna  had  beeu 
well  provided  for,  sent  a  thrill  of  pleasure  through  his  heart. 

The  residence  of  the  doctor  was  soon  reached.  It  was  a 
strongly-built  house,  of  the  olden  style,  and  had  stood 
through  the  storms  and  sunshine  of  many  years.  Its  ex- 
terior was  rather  gloomy,  from  the  substantial  manner  in 
which  it  had  been  constructed,  and  the  entire  absence  of 
those  architectural  adornments,  which  give  an  airy  look  to 
the  more  modern  structures.  A  flight  of  stone  steps  led 
up  to  the  door,  which  was  sunk  deeply  into  the  building, 
while  over  it  a  diamond-shaped  window  admitted  air  and 
light  into  the  hall. 

Mich  waited  impatiently  for  the  doctor  to  unlock  the  door 
and  enter.  They  traversed  a  long  and  narrow  hall,  but  had 
proceeded  but  a  few  steps,  when  a  door,  at  the  further  end, 
was  thrown  open  by  Anna,  who  exclaimed,  on  meeting  the 
doctor  : 

"  Why!  is  it  you  ?    What  have  you  come  home  for  now  ?" 

"  To  see  my  little  girl — brought  some  one  along,  too. 
Guess  who,"  answered  the  doctor. 

Anna  stepped  forward  to  meet  them,  but  the  light  in  the 
hall  was  so  obscure  that  she  could  not  get  a  fair  view  of 
Mich,  who  modestly  shrunk  somewhat  behind  the  doctor,  his 
heart  beating  with  delight  at  seeing  her  again,  while  he  at 
the  same  time  felt  an  unpleasant  sensation  in  his  throat. 
When  he,  however,  emerged  into  the  bright  light  of  the  sit- 


COENELL     LEAVES     NEW     YOI4K.         153 

ting  room,  Anna  gave  one  searching  earnest  look  into  his 
face,  and  then  ran  toward  him  and  grasped  his  hand,  ex- 
claiming : 

"  Mich  Lynch  !  Oh,  where  did  you  find  him  ?  How  glad 
I  am  to  see  you  !  Why  did'nt  you  come  to  see  me  before  ? 
You've  got  new  clothes  too,  hav'nt  you  ?" 

Poor  Mich  was  completely  overcome  by  Anna's  demon- 
stration of  friendship  and  cordiality.  He  could  not  speak 
for  some  time,  and  then  he  said  : 

"  Ye  hav'nt  forgotten  me,  have  ye  ?  I  was  afraid  ye 
had." 

"  Forget  you  !  why  I  tried  to  find  you,  but  why  did'nt 
you  come  to  see  me  sooner  ?" 

"  An'  how  was  I  to  know  that  ye'd  found  sich  a  nice  home 
as  this,"  said  Mich,  glancing  around  the  room. 

The  doctor  and  Mrs.  Hervey  had  been  enjoying  them- 
selves by  silently  witnessing  the  meeting  between  the  children, 
but  now  Doctor  Foster  spoke  : 

"  I  guess  you'll  get  along  here  without  me  ;  can't  lose 
any  more  tune.  Come  and  see  us  as  often  as  you  please, 
Mich." 

Mich  answered,  "  thank  ye,  sir,"  and  turned  to  go  with 
the  doctor,  although  looking  very  wistfully  at  Anna  and  her 
mother. 

"  Mich,  you  need'nt  go  ;  you  have  been  here  but  a  few 
minutes.  But  I  think  your  friend  might  offer  you  a  seat," 
the  doctor  remarked  as  he  left. 

Mrs.  Hervey  called  Mich  to  her  and  talked  with  him— 
T* 


154      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

asked  him  of  his  mother,  and  of  their  fortunes  since  she  had 
last  seen  him.  Mich  answered  her  briefly  and  respectfully, 
although  his  delight  at  meeting  Anna  was  turned  into  sad- 
ness on  observing  the  very  great  change  that  had  taken 
place  in  the  appearance  of  her  mother  since  last  he  had  seen 
her.  He  could  not  fail  to  observe  the  sunken  eyes,  shadow- 
like  form,  and  the  emaciated  hand  that  rested  upon  his  arm. 
To  him  the  change  was  shocking.  He  turned  around  to 
look  at  Anna  and  wonder  how  she  could  smile  and  appear  so 
contented,  but  Anna  saw  not  her  mother  as  Mich  did.  The 
gradual  wasting  away  had  been  to  her  almost  imperceptible  ; 
nursing  and  waiting  upon  her  night  and  day  she  could  not 
mark  the  gradual  change.  She  did  not  observe  that  day  by 
day  her  mother's  strength  failed  and  her  step  became  less 
firm.  She  hoped  that  when  the  spring  came  and  the  weather 
would  permit  her  walking  out  that  then  she  would  be  better. 
No  one  told  her  how  fallacious  was  the  hope  she  was  cher- 
ishing, and  so  she  dreamed.  Her  mother  would  sigh  and 
turn  away  when  Anna  endeavored  to  cheer  her  with  bright 
prospects  of  the  future,  for  she  felt  that  now  her  child  was 
provided  with  a  home,  it  would  be  cruel  to  imbitter  her 
present  happiness  by  recurring  to  that  event,  which,  when- 
ever it  should  happen,  be  it  sooner  or  later,  would  so  mar 
her  life's  enjoyment.  For  herself  she  was  ready  and  willing, 
whenever  death  should  call  her  to  that  other  home,  and  she 
strove  by  all  her  teaching  and  conversation  to  fill  her  daugh- 
ter's mind  with  such  thoughts  and  principles,  as  would  sus- 
tain her  in  the  time  of  her  affliction,  and  enable  her  coufi- 


CORNELL  LEAVES  NEW  YORK.    155 

dingly  to  place  her  full  reliance  upon  Him  who  must  be  her 
trust  when  the  hour  of  eternal  separation  should  come. 

Mrs.  Hervey  saw  Mich's  looks,  and  understood  his  feelings, 
and  she  feared  he  might  betray  what  was  in  his  thoughts, 
and  therefore,  to  divert  his  mind,  she  said  in  a  cheerful 
voice: 

"  Now  you  and  Anna  go  and  sit  down  and  chat  away  as 
fast  as  you  can.  .  It  will  be  soon  time  for  you  to  leave.  I 
presume  the  doctor  will  let  you  come  often  if  you  do  not  stay 
too  long." 

What  a  multitude  of  questions  were  asked  and  answered. 
What  exclamations  of  wonder — of  pity,  and  of  delight,  as 
the  occurrences  of  the  past  few  weeks  were  related  by  the 
children,  the  one  to  the  other,  and  how  quickly  time  sped 
away;  but  finally,  Mich  was  reminded  of  the  necessity  of  his 
leaving.  He  was  urged  by  Anna  to  stay  a  few  minutes 
longer,  but  replied  firmly: 

"  Indade  an'  ye  know  I'm  willin'  enough  to  stay  widout 
yer'  persuadin',  but  the  docther'll  may  be  be  wantin'  me 
now,  so  I'll  jist  lave  ye  now  and  come  agin." 

He  bade  Mrs.  Hervey  good  bye  and  started.  Anna  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  street  door,  and  there  she  had  so  many  last 
words  that  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  got  away. 

When  Doctor  Foster  returned  that  day  to  his  dinner,  Anna 
was  more  talkative  than  ever.  She  had  so  many  things  to 
tell  about  Mich — what  he  had  said,  and  what  he  had  done. 
Among  other  things  she  told  of  Mich's  last  interview  with 
the  pawnbroker,  as  Mich  had  related  it  to  her.  How  he  had 


156       OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

offered  a  quarter  if  Mich  would  find  her.  "  I  wonder  what 
he  wanted  of  me.  Can  you  guess?"  she  asked,  inquir- 
ingly 

"  Humph  !  He  want  to  find  you  ?  No  good  I'll  warrant. 
Let  me  think — what  was  it — didn't  you  say  something  about 
a  locket  that  you  let  him  have  ?" 

"  Anna  took  a  locket  there  to  pawn  the  day  before" 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  understand,"  interrupted  Doctor  Foster. 

"  It  was  a  valuable  picture,"  Mrs.  Hervey  continued. 

"  Picture — miniature  of  your  mother,  you  said,  didn't 
you  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  was  valuable  as  a  work  of  art.  It  was  painted 
by  an  Italian.  My  mother  went  with  my  father  one  voyage 
when  she  was  first  married,  and  while  abroad  my  father  had 
that  miniature  painted.  He  always  carried  it  with  him 
while  he  lived,  and  when  he  died  he  left  it  to  my  brother, 
who  several  years  since  gave  it  to  me.  It  was  the  last  thing 
I  parted  with." 

"  How  much  did  you  get  for  it  ?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"  He  gave  Anna  a  five  dollar  note  which  proved  not  to  be 
current,  and  so  we  were  obliged  to  lose  a  part  of  it." 

"  Humph  ?  That's  honest;  how  much  did  you  finally  get 
for  it  ?" 

"  I  think  about  two  dollars  and  a  half." 

"The  rascal;  but  you  are  getting  tired,  don't  talk  any 
more.  Anna  tell  me  all  about  it.  I'll  get  that  locket  again 
if  it's  to  be  found  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  To  impose  Tipon 
helpless  people  after  that  fashion — the  villain." 


CORNELL  LEAVES  NEW  YORK.    157 

Anna  then  told  him  all  the  particulars  that  she  could 
remember  of  her  interview  with  the  pawnbroker;  and  also 
of  her  buying  the  articles  at  the  grocery,  and  of  her  treat- 
ment there. 

After  a  moment's  thought  the  doctor  exclaimed: 

"  The  lying  rascal — cheat  a  child.  If  there's  any  law, — 
but  you  said  Mich  was  with  you." 

"  Yes,  I  was  afraid  to  go  alone." 

"  Well,  where's  the  ticket  he  gave  you  ?" 

"  The  ticket — I  don't  know,"  Anna  answered. 

"  Don't  know  1  What  did  you  do  with  it  ?" 

"  I  don't  remember;  did  I  give  it  to  you,  mother  ?" 

''You  may  have  done  so;  but  I  think  it  is  lost.  I  have 
never  seen  it  since." 

"  Lost !  Then  the  locket  is  lost,  and  that's  the  end 
of  the  whole  matter,"  exclaimed  the  doctor  angrily.  He 
felt  provoked  and  annoyed,  and  looked  sullenly  out  of  the 
window,  without  adding  another  word. 

Anna  glanced  at  him  timidly  through  the  tears  that  were 
ready  to  fall ;  for  she  had  never  before  seen  a  shade  of  anger 
upon  his  countenance,  and  it  troubled  her  exceedingly.  After 
looking  out  of  the  window  for  some  minutes  he  turned  sud- 
denly around  to  Anna  and  said: 

"When  Mich Why,  what's  this?  Tears— 

what's  the  matter  now  ? — crying  ?  Don't  cry,  child — tell  me 
what's  the  matter  ?" 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  lose  it.  I'm  so  sorry  it's  lost,"  sobbed 
Anna. 


153      OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Humph  !  that's  always  the  way  with  a  woman — thought 
I  was  vexed,  eh  ?  and  so  I  was,  that's  too  bad,  now  come 
here,  child.  There,  that's  it;  wipe  your  eyes,  don't  let's  have 
any  tears  or  snuffling — now  for  a  kiss — there  it's  all  settled 
now,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  gave  her  a  hearty  hug. 

"Mrs.  Hervey,  you  don't  think  as  Anna  did,  I  hope;  but 
I'm  confounded  sorry  the  ticket's  lost.  Don't  believe  it'll 
make  any  great  difference,  after  all.  I'll  go  and  see  a  law- 
yer. But  it  won't  bring  it  back  to  fret  about  it.  So,  never 
mind — never  mind — we'll  find  a  way  to  get  it  again.  Per- 
haps he  don't  know  the  value  of  the  thing,  and  will  be  willing 
to  sell  it  for  a  trifle." 

Anna  wiped  away  her  tears,  and  was  happy  again;  and, 
as  he  was  preparing  to  leave  the  room,  Mrs.  Hervey  remarked, 
"  Doctor,  I  think  I  am  mistaken  about  a  ticket,  since  you 
have  been  speaking  I  have  tried  to  recall  the  circumstances, 
and  I  think  there  was  no  ticket  given.  Anna,  did  the  pawn- 
broker give  you  anything  besides  the  five  dollar  note  ?" 

"  No,  Mother." 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  so,  then,  child,  before  ?"  asked  the 
doctor. 

"  I  didn't  know  what  you  meant.  He  offered  me  at 
first  four  shillings,  but  Mich  said  I  shouldn't  let  him  have 
it  for  less  than  five  dollars,  and  so  he  gave  me  that,"  Anna 
answered. 

"  So  it's  sold,  then.  Well,  if  there's  such  a  thing  possi- 
ble, I'll  have  it  back.  I  tell  you,  Mrs.  Hervey,  there's  some- 
thing about  this  that  I  don't  understand  ;  there's  a  mystery 


CORNELL  LEAVES  NEW  YORK.    159 

connected  with  it.  Why  should  the  pawnbroker  employ 
Mich  to  search  for  Anna,  can  you  imagine  ?  Had  you  ever 
seen  or  heard  of  him  before  ?" 

"  No,  I  cannot  imagine  why  he  should  wish  to  find 
her." 

"  Can  it  be  that  Mich  has  come  merely  to  find  out  where 
she  lives  so  as  to  report  to  him.  I  mistrust  him." 

"  No,  that  cannot  be,"  answered  Mrs.  Hervey. 

"  But  I  cannot  fathom  it ;  it's  no  mere  caprice  ;  but 
after  all  there  may  be  some  very  simple  reason  for  his 
wishing  to  find  her,  and  when  I  have  time  to  pass  by  his 
shop  I'll  inquire  myself.  I  hate  mystery,  and  if  this  Mich 
should  come  here  again,  remember  to  tell  him  I  want  to  see 
him." 

So  saying,  the  doctor  left  them  alone,  and  took  his  way 
to  his  office.  As  he  went  along  he  could  not  keep  the  mat- 
ter out  of  his  mind.  Taking  the  whole  circumstances  to- 
gether, he  was  dissatisfied.  He  was  out  of  humor  with 
himself  at  having  spoken  so  bluntly  as  to  hurt  Anna's 
feelings,  for  he  had  become  greatly  attached  to  her.  His 
noble  heart  had  found  something  on  which  to  lavish  the 
wealth  of  his  affections,  and  he  was  vexed  for  having 
allowed  himself  to  show  any  signs  of  ill-humor.  He  was 
annoyed  at  the  coincidence,  which  had  made  him  introduce 
to  his  home  Mich,  a  raw  Irish  boy,  of  whose  principles  and 
habits  he  knew  nothing  ;  and  who,  for  aught  he  knew, 
might  be  an  emissary  of  this  pawnbroker,  whom,  the 
doctor  feared,  was  plotting  some  evil  against  his  ward, 


160      OLD     H  A  U  N  ,     THE     PAWNBROKEB. 

but  why  or  how,  he  could  not  resolve  ;  but  he  determined 
to  keep  an  eye  upon  them  both,  and  endeavor,  by  his 
watchfulness,  to  thwart  any  plans  that  they  might  be 
plotting. 


DOCTOR     FOSTER     AND     ANNA.  161 


CHAPTER    VII 

DOCTOR   FOSTER  AND   ANNA. 

APRIL  with  its  rain  and  sunshine  had  passed.  In  the 
distant  fields  the  balmy  breath  of  spring,  lifted  lightly  the 
leaf  of  the  early  flower.  All  nature  was  revived  by  its 
gentle  caress.  But  to  the  drooping,  fainting,  feeble  invalid, 
in  the  heart  of  the  great  city,  it  came  not. 

The  sun  was  shining,  and  its  cheerful  light  entered  the 
open  casement  of  the  room,  where  Mrs.  Hervey  lay.  The 
sofa  had  been  wheeled  away  from  the  grate,  and  near  the 
window,  that  she  might  feel  the  cheering  influence  of  the 
bright  spring  day.  She  had  but  just  risen,  and  it  was  now 
near  noon.  Bat  to  Anna's  question,  "  How  do  you  feel  now, 
mother  ?"  she  answered,  "  Weak,  my  daughter,  very 
weak." 

Anna  drew  the  shawl  more  closely  around  her  mother, 
and  smoothed  her  pillow,  endeavoring  by  caresses  to  show 
her  affection.  Her  lips  quivered,  and  her  eyes  suffused 
with  tears  when  she  noticed  the  increasing  weakness  of 
that  deal  parent.  Even  now,  she  did  not  really  understand 


162        OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

that  health  and  strength  had  left  her  forever.  She  hoped 
that  each  succeeding  day  would  restore  them  to  her,  as  the 
springtime  brings  life  to  the  flower  that  the  snows  of  winter 
have  crushed.  This  morning,  Mrs.  Hervey  seemed  more 
cheerful  than  usual,  and  Anna  had  confidently  expected 
that  she  would  say  she  felt  better.  Her  mother's  answer 
had  disappointed  and  discouraged  her.  After  having 
bestowed  all  possible  attention  upon  her  mother's  comfort, 
she  brought  her  chair  close  beside  the  sofa,  and,  with  her 
work-basket  by  her  side,  sat  silently  down  to  the  com- 
pletion of  the  task  which  she  had  began.  After  sitting 
undisturbed  for  a  few  moments,  Mrs.  Hervey  inquired  of 
her  : 

"  What  time  is  it,  Anna  ?" 

"'Most  dinner  time,  I  think,"  Anna  replied,  as  she  went 
to  the  window  and  looked  out,  and  then  sought  Biddy  and 
repeated  the  question. 

"  Yes,  mother,  it  is  almost  three  o'clock,"  she  replied, 
returning  to  her  seat. 

"  Doctor  Foster  will  be  here  soon  then." 

"  Yes,  the  good  doctor  will  soon  come  ;  but  what  do  you 
want  of  him,  mother  ?" 

"  My  daughter,  I  want  to  see  a  clergyman.  I  want  to 
hear,  once  more,  the  beautiful  prayers  of  the  church.  I 
feel  as  though  they  would  give  me  strength." 

"Will  they  make  you  well,  mother  ?" 

"  Anna,  I  sincerely  trust  that  all  is  well  with  me  now. 
Mv  body  can  never  be  better  or  stronger,  but  my  spirit  will 


DOCTOR     FOSTER     AND     ANNA.  163 

soon  be  free  ;  I  feel  it,  I  know  it  ;  Anna,  my  dear  girl,  it  is 
not  possible  that  I  should  live  long  ;  you  must  not  expect 
it,"  said  Mrs.  Hervey,  very  feebly. 

"  Oh,  mother  !  my  darling  mother,  don't  talk  so.  You 
must  not  die,  and  leave  me  here  alone." 

"  Not  alone.     There  is  one  who  will  always  be  with  you." 

"Oh,  dear,  what  can  I  do  ?  I  shall  have  no  father  nor 
mother — no  one  to  love  me  when  you  are  gone." 

"  Do  you  forget  the  kind  friend  whom  God  has  raised  up 
for  you,  Anna  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  Dr.  Foster  is  good  and  kind,  and  I  love  him,  too, 
but  he  is  not  my  mother." 

"  True,  child  ;  but  you  know  I  cannot  always  be  with  you, 
and  a  few  years  more  or  less  can  not  make  much  difference. 
Trust  in  God  and  he  will  protect  and  love  you.  Remember 
always  that  '  He  doeth  all  things  well. ' " 

Anna  could  only  weep  ;  she  could  not  reason  upon  the 
goodness  or  justice  of  the  act  that  should  deprive  her  of  a 
mother's  love.  Doctor  Foster  soon  entered,  and  going  toward 
Mrs.  Hervey  cast  upon  her  a  scrutinizing  glance,  saying  : 

"  Good  morning  :  warming  yourself  in  the  sun  ?  Eh  ! 
Anna,  crying,  why  what  does  this  mean  ?" 

"  Oh,  mother  says  she  is  going  to  die,"  Anna  answered, 
and  again  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears,  and  turning  to  her 
kind  friend,  clasped  the  hand  that  was  extended  towards  her. 

"  Come  here,  my  own  little  girl.  I  hope  she  will  live  a 
long  tune  yet,"  said  the  doctor  as  he  drew  the  weeping 
child  towards  him- 


164:       OLD      HAUN,     THE      PAWNBROKER. 

"  Doctor,  don't  try  to  deceive  her  ;  it  is  not  right  that  you 
should — the  reality  must  come  soon,  and  it  is  better  that  she 
should  be  prepared  for  it." 

The  doctor  took  no  notice  of  the  remark,  but  continued 
caressing  Anna,  and  whispering  kind  words  in  her  ear.  In  a 
few  moments  she  became  more  tranquil,  and  then  he  said 
cheerfully  : 

"  Run  down  stairs  now  and  see  if  you  can't  help  Biddy 
get  the  dinner,  for  I'm  terribly  hungry." 

Anna  started  immediately,  although  she  was  not  deceived 
by  the  doctor's  ruse  to  get  her  away.  After  she  had  left  the 
room,  he  said  : 

"  Mrs.  Hervey,  don't  say  anything  more  about  that  to  her. 
Poor  little  thing  it  would  break  her  heart  to  lose  you.  It 
does  no  good  to  talk  about  it.  You  cannot  reason  her  into 
resignation.  It  is  not  in  the  nature  of  things.  You  may 
live  yet  a  long  time.  I  have  not  attempted  to  deceive  you, 
and  while  I  say  that  you  may  live  yet  a  long  tune,  you  are 
as  well  aware  of  the  fact  as  I  am,  that  your  days  on  earth 
may  be  much  fewer  than  we  suppose.  There  is  nothing  that 
I  would  leave  undone  either  to  protract  your  life,  or  to  alle- 
viate your  suffering.  But  don't  even  try  to  make  Anna  real- 
ize your  situation.  Poor  thing  !  it  will  crush  her  when  it 
does  come,  but  let  her  enjoy  life  as  long  as  she  can." 

"  Doctor  Foster,  I  feel  that  you  are  right.  Your  counsel 
is  correct.  God  will  bless  you  for  your  kindness  to  my  poor 
child.  Love  her  ;  protect  her  thus  through  life  ;  and  the 
loss  of  father  and  mother  will  be  more  easily  borne  by  her," 
said  Mrs  Hervey  with  emotion. 


DOCTOR      FOSTER     AND     ANNA.  165 

"Let  me  assure  you  that  I  will  never  desert  her  through 
life,  and  upon  this  you  may  rely  ;  while  I  live  she  shall  share 
with  me,  and  when  I  am  called  hence,  I  intend  that  she  shall 
not  be  left  destitute,"  said  the  doctor,  earnestly. 

"I  am  satisfied.  I  have  now  two  requests  to  make  of  you, 
and  then  I  am  done.  I  feel  that  I  am  nearer  my  end  than 
even  you  imagine,  and,  therefore,  as  I  have  now  an  opportu- 
nity I  will  speak  without  reserve,"  continued  Mrs.  Hervey. 

"  Say  on  ;  whatever  lies  in  my  power  shall  be  done  for 
you,"  replied  the  doctor. 

Mrs.  Hervey  continued  :  "  If  you  ever  have  an  opportu- 
nity, will  you  learn  whether  my  brother,  William  Leonard,  is 
living.  If  you  should  discover  him,  tell  him  from  me  that  I 
often  longed  to  see  him,  and  assure  him  of  my  love  and  of 
my  forgiveness  for  his  neglect.  I  know  he  must,  if  living, 
have  regretted  it  ;  although  I  have  but  little  expectation  of 
your  ever  meeting  him." 

"  Supposing  he  were  to  appear  and  claim  Anna  as  his 
relative,  what  then  ?" 

"  Anna  I  leave  as  my  legacy  to  you.  You  shall  have  the 
entire  control  and  disposition  of  her  until  she  shall  become 
of  a  proper  age  to  take  care  of  and  act  for  herself.  I  do 
this,  feeling  secure  in  the  knowledge  of  your  affection  for 
her," 

"  That  is  enough  :  from  this  time  she  is  mine.  What  was 
the  other  request  ?" 

"  I  would  like  to  see  a  clergyman." 

"  Any  one  in  particular  ?" 


166       OLD      HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Yes  !  of  the  Church." 

"  Episcopal,  I  suppose,  you  mean." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  seek  one  and  send  him  to  you  as  soon 
as  I  go  into  the  street  again." 

"Thank  you,"  Mrs.  Hervey  replied  feebly,  as  she  sank 
back  upon  the  pillow  and  closed  her  eyes.  Biddy  soon  com- 
menced laying  the  cloth  for  dinner,  and  with  Anna's  assist- 
ance everything  was  soon  ready.  They  sat  down  and  ate  in 
silence,  for  no  one  felt  inclined  to  converse.  Anna  had  ar- 
ranged the  large  easy  chair  for  her  mother,  and  had  drawn 
it  to  the  table,  where,  with  the  doctor's  assistance  she  was 
comfortably  placed. 

After  the  doctor  had  finished  his  meal,  and  prepared  to 
leave,  he  said  to  Mrs.  Hervey  : 

"  Let  me  lay  you  on  the  sofa  ;  you  will  get  too  tired  if 
you  try  to  sit  up  until  I  come  back." 

"  Biddy  and  I  can  help  her,"  said  Anna 

"  You  !  Well,  well,  do  it  then,"  and  turning  to  leave  the 
room,  muttered,  "  Do  all  you  can,  poor  thing  1  Won't  have 
a  chance  long  to  help  her." 

The  doctor  went  along  debating  in  his  own  mind  what 
clergyman  he  should  call.  He  was  particularly  acquainted 
with  several,  but  he  had  become  attached  to  no  society,  nor 
church.  At  length  he  decided  to  call  upon  a  neighboring 
clergyman  whom  he  had  several  times  met,  and  proceeded 
at  once  to  the  house.  As  he  stood  waiting  an  answer  to 
his  summons,  he  said  to  himself : 

"  Don't  see  what  she  can  want  with  a  clergyman.     She's 


DOCTOR     FOSTER     AND     ANNA.  167 

better  than  any  of  them — hope  she'll  be  happier  in  the  next 
world  than  she  has  been  in  this." 

His  soliloquy  was  interrupted  by  the  opening  of  the  door 
by  the  clergyman  himself,  who  was  about  going  out  on  a 
professional  call.  The  doctor  made  known  to  him  the  object 
of  his  visit,  and  inquired  if  he  could  go. 

The  clergyman  consented,  and  they  started  together  :  as 
they  walked  along  the  doctor  related,  in  answer  to  some 
questions  concerning  her  former  life,  as  much  as  he  thought 
it  necessary  to  communicate. 

It  was  enough  for  the  worthy  minister  to  know  that 
she  desired  his  services.  He  did  not  attempt  to  pry  into  her 
present  condition  or  her  past  life,  but  wished  only  to  learn 
enough  of  her  character  and  disposition  that  he  might  be 
able  to  speak  understandingly,  and  the  better  minister  to  her 
spiritual  wants. 

They  soon  arrived  at  the  doctor's  residence,  and  he  led  the 
way  into  the  room  of  the  sick  woman,  saying  : 

"  Mrs.  Hervey,  here  is  the  clergyman,  as  you  wished. 
Anna  won't  you  go  and  take  a  walk  with  me  while  this  gentle- 
man talks  with  your  mother." 

Anna's  heart  was  too  full  to  speak,  she  could  only  look 
imploringly  at  her  kind  friend.  The  doctor  understood  the 
appeal  and  said  : 

"  Don't  want  to  go,  eh  ?  Better  go  ;  but  do  just  as  you 
have  a  mind  to.  Say,  will  you  go  ?" 

"  I'd  rather  not  leave  mamma,"  said  Anna,  in  a  whisper 


168       OLD      HAUN,     THE      PAWNBROKER. 

"  Well,  well  ;  stay  then.  I'll  go  away  for  a  while,  and 
be  back  soon."  The  doctor  then  left. 

While  this  was  passing  between  the  doctor  and  Anna, 
Mrs.  Hervey  had  been  engaged  in  answering  some  general 
questions  of  the  clergyman.  But  he  had  observed  Anna's 
reluctance  to  leave  and  become  interested  in  her,  and  as  the 
doctor  closed  the  door  he  continued  : 

"  I  trust,  Mrs.  Hervey,  you  are  not  alarmed  at  the  near 
approach  of  death." 

"  No,  sir  ;  death  has  no  terrors  for  me.  Anna  is  now  the 
only  tie  to  bind  me  to  earth.  The  love  of  a  mother  is 
strong  ;  for  her  sake  I  cling  to  life,  although  God  has  raised 
up  for  her  a  friend  in  her  need,  and  I  am  truly  grateful." 

"  You  tire  yourself,  I  fear.  You  had  better  speak  but 
little,"  remarked  the  clergyman,  as  he  observed  Mrs.  Hervey's 
exhaustion.  "  Anna,  will  you  bring  me  a  Bible.  I  will 
read  to  your  mother."  Anna  brought  her  mother's  own 
Bible.  It  was  the  family  Bible — one  that  her  husband  had 
given  her  as  a  bridal  present.  This  made  it  doubly  dear  to 
her,  although  she  loved  it  for  its  intrinsic  value.  Through 
all  the  pressure  of  want  she  had  preserved  it,  and  now  it 
was  the  only  legacy  that  she  could  leave  her  child. 

The  man  of  God  opened  and  read,  "  Though  I  walk 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no 
evil  :  for  Thou  art  with  me,  Thy  rod  and  Thy  staff  they 
comfort  me."  These  blessed  words  fell  upon  her  soul  like 
dew  upon  the  thirsty  earth. 


DOCTOR     FOSTER     AND     ANNA.  169 

He  continued,  and  his  voice  gathered  strength  and 
earnestness  as  he  proceeded.  It  seemed  to  revive  her 
exhausted  energies.  Denied  as  she  had  been  for  so  long  a 
tune  the  privilege  of  listening  to  the  Word  from  the  lips  of 
its  ministers,  the  language  of  encouragment  and  comfort 
now  addressed  to  her,  carried  with  it  a  consoling  power  never 
before  experienced  by  her. 

And  then  he  prayed.  The  same  prayers  were  now  offered 
by  her  dying  couch,  which  she  had  loved  even  in  child- 
hood. 

She  lay  with  her  emaciated  hands  clasped,  and  her  eyes 
upraised,  as  if  her  wrapt  spirit  had  already  taken  its  flight. 

Anna's  face  was  buried  in  the  clothes  that  covered  her 
dying  mother,  and  she  did  not  observe  the  sudden  move- 
ment with  which  the  minister  bent  forward  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  features  of  the  sick  woman  as  he  arose  from 
his  knees — but  she  was  aroused  by  hearing  him  exclaim  in 
a  hurried  voice  : 

"  Anna,  speak  to  your  mother." 

"  Mother,"  she  whispered. 

No  look — no  sign  of  recognition,  and  again  she  repeated 
in  a  louder  voice,  "  Mother  !  mother,  speak  to  Anna  !" 

"  Anna,  your  mother  is  in  Heaven,"  said  the  minister,  as 
he  gazed  sadly  upon  the  pale  face,  and  placed  his  hand  upon 
the  forehead. 

Oh,  the  agony  of  that  young  heart  when  the  wailing  cry 
of  "mother,"  was  unanswered — again  she  called  "  mother  1" 
as  she  grasped  the  thin  hand  in  both  her  own,  but  its  cold- 


170      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

ness  chilled  her  young  blood,  as  she  dropped  senseless  to  the 
floor. 

As  the  clergyman  lifted  her  from  the  floor,  Doctor  Foster 
and  Biddy  simultaneously  entered  the  room.  Anna's  cry 
had  startled  both,  and  they  rushed  in  to  discover  the 
cause. 

"What  is  it  ?"  exclaimed  the  doctor. 

"  She  is  dead  !  and  this  child  has  fainted,"  answered  the 
minister. 

"  Poor  thing — give  her  here  ?  Water,  Biddy — quick,  girl, 
be  quick — some  water  ?" 

The  frightened  servant  brought  water  and  sprinkled  in 
Anna's  face,  with  loud  and  violent  exclamations  of  grief. 

"  There — stop  your  noise,  Biddy,  she  is  coming  to.  Poor 
child,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  pressed  his  lips  to  her  cheek. 
And  then  the  rough  old  man  turned  away  to  hide  the  tears 
that  trickled  down  his  weather-beaten  face.  He  who  had 
looked  upon  suffering  in  every  shape,  almost  without  a  sigh, 
now  wept  over  the  agony  of  the  helpless  child  in  his  arms. 

The  clergyman  closed  the  eyes  of  the  dead,  and  laid  her 
clasped  hands  upon  her  breast,  and  then  turned  to  the 
reviving  Anna,  and  said  : 

"My  dear  child — God  has  taken  earth's  best  treasure 
from  yon,  and  left  you  to  breast  alone  the  storms  of  life, 
may  He  temper  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb  !" 

"  Anna,  child  ;  do  you  feel  better  now  ?';  said  the  doctor, 
in  soothing  tones. 

Anna  languidly  opened  her  eyes,  and  looked  inquiringly 


• 

• 

DOCTOK     FO8TEK     AND    ANNA.  171 

into  the  doctor's  face,  and  then  closed  them  again,  while  a 
shiver  crept  over  her  whole  frame. 

"  Biddy,  open  the  door  ?  let  me  put  her  on  the  bed,  per- 
haps she  will  fall  asleep,"  said  the  doctor. 

He  carried  her  and  laid  her  on  her  own  bed,  covered  her, 
and  kissing  her  tenderly  left  the  room.  There  she  lay 
stricken  of  grief — weak  and  helpless  as  an  infant.  Pros- 
trated by  the  shock,  she  did  not  weep,  but  lay  with  closed 
eyes  listening  tremblingly  to  the  noise  of  hurrying  feet,  and 
the  sound  of  voices  echoing  through  the  house.  Biddy  open- 
ed the  door,  and  came  stealthily  to  the  bed,  and  bent  over 
Anna,  saying  in  a  whisper  : 

"  Slapin'  so  sweetly,  the  dear  child." 

Anna  opened  her  eyes  and  said,  "  I'm  awake,  Biddy." 

"  Och  1  darlint,  ye're  hungry  now,  won't  ye  get  up  and 
ate  the  nice  supper  that  I  have  for  ye  ?" 

"  I  am  not  hungry." 

"  Now  don't  ye  be  refusin'  me,  ye  must  thry  and  ate  a  bit, 
the  masther  bade  ye.  Come  now,  down  in  the  kitchen." 

"Will  you  help  me  up,  Biddy,  I  feel  so  bad,  so  bad 
here,"  said  Anna,  laying  her  hand  over  her  heart. 

This  was  too  much  for  Biddy's  composure,  notwithstand- 
ing the  doctor's  directions  not  to  make  "  a  fuss "  before 
Anna.  She  could  no  longer  contain  herself,  but  clasping 
the  child  in  her  arms,  pressed  her  to  her  bosom,  while  the 
tears  flowed  freely,  and  she  exclaimed  raising  her  up  from 
the  bed  : 

"  The  saints  presarve  you,  poor  innocent  crathur,  what'll 


172      OLD     HAUN,      THE      PAWNBROKER. 

become  of  ye  in  the  wide  world  alone  ;  but  ye  shall  niver 
want,  while  I  have  rue  two  hands  left  to  work  wid  ;  och 
hone  1" 

Thus  moaning,  and  giving  way  to  her  sorrow,  she  took 
Anna  in  her  arms  and  carried  her  down  into  the  kitchen, 
where  she  tried  to  persuade  her  to  eat  something,  but  in 
vain.  Failing  in  this,  she  sat  down  caressing  and  crooning 
over  her.  Biddy's  feelings  were  touched  by  the  pale  face, 
tearless  eyes,  aiid  fixed  look  of  Anna.  She  could  not  under- 
stand the  sorrow  that  found  no  vent  in  tears.  Thns  they 
sat,  until  twilight  found  Biddy  slumbering,  and  Anna  lying 
quietly  in  her  arms. 

The  opening  and  closing  of  doors,  and  the  tread  of  feet  in 
the  rooms  above  had  ceased.  The  measured  step  of  the 
doctor  alone  was  heard.  Soon  he  came  down,  and  without 
a  word  took  Anna  in  his  arms  and  carrying  her  up  stairs, 
sat  down  with  her  in  his  lap. 

Anna  started,  and  looked  anxiously  about  when  they 
entered  the  little  sitting  room,  and  then  exclaimed,  as  she 
glanced  around  : 

"  Where,  where  have  you  put  her  ?" 

"  In  there,  she  has  not  been  taken  away." 

"  May  I  see  her  now  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  placed  her  on  her  feet,  and 
led  her  into  the  next  room. 

The  grey  light  of  evening  came  dimly  through  the  open 
window,  but  enough  to  mark  distinctly  the  slender  form  that 
lay  shrouded  theve  as  unchanged  in  feature  as  if  she  slept — 


DOCTOR     FOSTER     AND      ANNA.  ITS 

a  gentle  breeze  entered  the  casement  and  lifted  one  lock  of 
hair  from  the  marble  forehead. 

Anna  knelt,  and  smoothing  back  the  dishevelled  lock, 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands  murmuring,  "  my  dear  mother." 
Then  came  to  her  the  full  sense  of  her  loss,  for  when  before 
had  her  caresses  ever  been  unreturned — when,  the  word  of 
love  unheard  and  unanswered  ?  Tears  for  the  first  time  now 
rolled  down  her  cheek  and  fell  upon  the  face  of  the  dead, 
while  convulsive  sobs  shook  her  frame.  The  doctor  led  her 
away,  pillowing  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  thus  she  wept, 
long  and  silently.  There  was  no  fond  mother's  sheltering 
arms  to  fly  to  now.  No  word  of  love  to  check  her  grief,  no 
tender  embrace  to  quiet  pain.  The  world  was  before  her. 
The  wilderness  of  life,  and  like  Hagar,  she  must  wander 
forth  alone. 


174:       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWKBBOKEK. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE     VISIT     AND     PLOT. 

UPON  the  receipt  by  Haun  of  Cornell's  letter  he  opened 
and  read  it  calmly  through,  and  then  re-read  it,  and  finally 
laying  it  down  said,  "  Just  as  I  thought,  men  are  all  natu- 
rally knaves.  Take  a  thousand  dollars  and  deliver  up  the 
bond  1  Not  I ;  either  the  whole  or  nothing  ;  but  I  see 
plainly  two  things  are  to  be  done.  First,  that  boy  Mich 
must  be  hunted  up,  that's  one  thing  ;  secondly,  I  must,  if  ne- 
cessary, go  down  to  New  Orleans  ;  that's  the  other  thing." 

"  But  now  for  Mich — let  me  think.  I've  noticed  him  several 
times  lately  with  that  gay  doctor  down  near  the  battery,  I 
must  see  him."  So  soliloquizing,  the  pawnbroker  closed  his 
shop,  and  started  rapidly  down  Broadway  towards  the  office 
of  Doctor  Marsh.  Reaching  the  place,  he  entered,  and  ob- 
serving a  student  sitting  with  his  feet  raised  up  on  the  back 
of  a  chair,  and  lazily  perusing  a  morning  paper,  he  inquired 
of  him  : 

"  Is  Doctor  Marsh  within  ?" 

The  young  man  raised  his  eyes  leisurely  from  the  paper, 
and  permitted  them  to  rest  for  a  moment  upon  the  intruder, 


THE     VISIT    AND     PLOT.  175 

and  then  dropped  them  again  upon  paper,  and  continued 
reading  without  deigning  a  word  in  answer  : 

Haun  stood  for  some  moments  in  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
waiting  for  a  recognition  of  his  presence  from  the  individual, 
until  getting  somewhat  impatient,  he  in  a  calm  voice  asked 
again  : 

"  Young  man,  is  Doctor  Marsh  at  home  ?"  The  student 
glanced  up  at  the  questioner,  and  then  looking  slowly  about 
the  room  as  if  searching  for  some  one,  replied — 

"  No  ;  I  should  think  not ;  I  don't  see  him  anywhere 
here." 

Haun  took  no  notice  of  the  impertinent  tone  and  manner, 
but  continued  : 

"  Do  you  know  a  boy  by  the  name  of  Mich  Lynch  ?" 

"  No  !  I  regret  exceedingly  on  your  account,  that  he  does 
not  happen  to  be  numbered  among  the  gentlemen  of  my 
acquaintance." 

"  I  understand  he  is  in  the  employ  of  Dr.  Marsh." 

"  You  may  be  correct." 

"  I  am  anxious  to  find  him,  and  will  wait  till  Doctor 
Marsh  returns." 

"  By  the  way,"  remarked  the  student  after  a  pause,"  it 
does  seem  to  me  that  I  have  heard  the  name.  The  indivi- 
dual who  oversees  the  horse-holding  and  office-sweeping  de- 
partment, if  I  remember  right,  bears  that  cognomen." 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  is  at  present  ?" 
'  Really,  sir,  you  will  excuse   my  ignorance,  but  I  am 
t<  ally  unable  to  answer  your  interrogatory." 


176        OLD     HAT7N,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  It's  of  no  consequence,  I  observe  Doctor  Marsh  coming, 
and  will  inquire  of  him." 

"  Good  morning,  doctor,"  said  Haun,  as  the  physician 
entered. 

"  Ah,  good  morning,  I  was  unexpectedly  detained,  or  I 
should  have  left  word  ;  but  take  a  seat  ;  don't  remain  stand- 
ing. Brown,  why  don't  you  offer  Mr.  Haun  a  chair  ?" 

The  student  stood  in  amazement  to  see  the  haughty  and 
aristocratic  physician,  greet  in  such  a  cordial  manner  the 
person  whom  he  had  supposed  from  his  rough  exterior  and 
slovenly  dress  to  be  some  unfortunate  stranger  seeking,  per- 
haps, a  charitable  call.  He  allowed  the  paper  to  slide  from 
his  hand  to  the  floor,  and  looked  on  without  rising  or  speaking. 

"  I  should  hope  this  young  man  didn't  copy  his  manners 
from  his  master,"  remarked  Haun,  quietly. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  replied  Doctor  Marsh,  looking  at 
each  alternately. 

"  It's  nothing  at  all,  only  this  young  gentleman  took  me 
possibly  for  one  of  his  own  acquaintances,  as  I  judge  from 
his  manner  before  you  entered." 

"  I  hope  nothing  has  occurred  to  offend  you,"  Doctor 
Marsh  remarked,  deprecatingly. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  don't  allow  myself  to  be  offended  ;  but  to 
cut  the  matter  short,  this  person  chose  to  answer  me  very 
impertinently." 

"  How  is  this,  Brown  ?" 

"  I  thought "  said   the  abashed  Brown.     "  I  didn't 

know  that  he  was  a  riend  of  yours,  or  I " 


THE     VISIT     AKD     PLOT.  1T7 

"  You  should  know  all  are  friends  who  come  to  see  me, 
and  particularly  this  gentleman,  Mr.  Hauu.  As  it  will  not 
be  for  my  interest  to  retain  you,  you  will  consider  your 
engagement  with  me  terminated.  Come  this  evening,  and 
we  will  arrange  any  arrears  there  may  be.  Now,  Mr. 
Haun,  step  into  this  room,"  said  Dr.  Marsh,  leading  the 
way  into  an  inner  office,  while  Haun  followed  after.  As 
the  latter  passed  the  discomfited  Brown,  who  stood  with 
hat  in  hand  ready  to  take  his  leave,  Haun  leered  into  his 
face,  and  with  a  grimace  whispered  : 

"  You  don't  see  him  anywhere  here,  do  you  ?"  and  with- 
out stopping,  passed  on  after  Doctor  Marsh  into  the  private 
office. 

Motioning  his  visitor  to  a  seat,  Doctor  Marsh  remarked  : 
"  I  hope  you  didn't  come  to  talk  of  money  to-day,  did  you  ? 
the  times  are  too  close." 

"  No,  I  came  for  another  purpose." 

"  Indeed !  What  might  that  be  ?"  inquired  Doctor 
Marsh,  curiously. 

"  Isn't  there  a  boy  living  with  you  by  the  name  of  Mich 
Linch  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  that's  the  name  of  the  lad.  It's  Mich  at 
any  rate.  But  you  donrt  think  of  offering  him  any  other 
situation  ?  I  could  not  well  part  with  him." 

"  No,  I've  no  such  intention  ;  I  want  merely  to  speak 
with  him  a  moment.  Can  you  tell  me  where  I  shall  find 
him  at  present  ?" 

"  I  think  lie's  below,  holding  my  horse.  Shall  I  call  him 
up  ?"  8* 


178       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBKOKEB. 

"  No,  I'm  obliged  to  you,  I  can  speak  with  him  just  as 
well  there." 

"  Is  Mich  one  of  your  customers  ?" 

"  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  have  me  publish  a  list  of  my 
customers." 

"  Not  very  particular,"  he  answered,  with  a  shrug. 

"  Wouldn't  like  to  see  your  name  in  print,  I  suppose  ?" 

"No,  I'm  not  desirous  of  seeing  it  in  the  company  it 
would  probably  have." 

"  Not  such  bad  company  neither.  I  think  you'd  recog- 
nize some  very  near  friends  ;  but  good  morning  ;  I  must  see 
the  boy  Mich  a  minute,"  answered  the  pawnbroker,  as  he 
left  the  office. 

The  doctor  watched  him  from  the  window,  as  he  ap- 
proached the  carriage  to  speak  to  Mich,  and  observed  Mich's 
start  of  surprise  ;  but  at  the  moment,  the  attention  of  the 
doctor  was  attracted  to  the  entrance  of  some  person,  and 
he  turned  from  the  window.  It  was  the  student,  who  said  : 
"  I  thought  as  you  might  have  a  few  moments'  leisure,  I'd 
come  in  now  and  arrange  our  matters  before  leaving." 

"  Pshaw  1"  nonsense,  Brown  ;  just  sit  down  and  go  to 
your  studies.  Didn't  you  know  who  that  was  ?  Among 
gentlemen,  Mr.  Haun,  the  money  lender  and  usurer ; 
among  the  poorer  classes,  Old  Haun  the  pawnbroker." 

"  I  had  never  seen  him  before,  and  did  not  take  him,  from 
his  appearance,  to  be  one  of  your  acquaintances." 

"An  acquaintance,  but  not  a  friend.  It's  always,  best 
to  keep  on  the  right  side  of  such  persons.  So,  never  mind 


THE     VISIT     AND     PLOT.  179 

what  I  said  ;  I  did  it  only  to  put  the  old  fellow  in  good 
humor." 

"  Well,  he's  the  toughest-looking  knot  I've  seen  this  many 
a  day,  and  I  don't  think  I  was  much  to  blame  for  taking 
him  for  a  pauper  ;  and  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  I  don't  like  to 
be  snubbed  in  that  way,  just  to  please  every  one  that 
chooses  to  take  offence  at  my  manners  ;"  and  so,  giving  vent 
to  his  feelings,  the  young  man  went  sullenly  back  to  his 
seat,  avowing  to  himself,  that  if  he  should  ever  get  a  chance, 
he'd  break  the  old  devil's  neck,  or  do  some  other  equally 
charitable  act. 

Mich  was  quite  astonished  when,  on  looking  up,  he 
recognized  his  old  acquaintance,  the  pawnbroker,  and  in- 
quired : 

"  Did  you  spake  to  me,  sir  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  did.  So  you've  got  up  a  step  in  the  world, 
have  you  ?" 

"Ye've  hit  it  this  time.  Kape  a  horse  and  carriage,  ye 
see,"  answered,  Mich,  looking  up  boldly  into  the  pawnbro- 
ker's face. 

"  Yes,  I  see.  Your  good  luck  has  made  you  forget  your 
old  friends,  I  suppose — that's  the  way  it  always  goes.  You 
don't  see  that  little  girl  any  more,  do  you  ?" 

"  Not  the  laste  bit  in  the  world  ;  no  such  thing.  Have 
I  missed  seein'  her  a  day  since  her  poor  mother  died  ?  tell 
me  that,"  answered  Mich,  indignantly. 

"  Well,  I  was  wrong  then.  I'm  glad  there's  one  who 
doesn't  forget  his  friends.  So  her  mother  is  dead,  is  she  ?" 


180        OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Yes,  it's  a  week  ago,  to-day,  that  she  died  ;  but  I'm 
thinkin'  ye're  not  the  one  to  care  much  for  it  ?" 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  I  want  to  speak  with  her.  She's 
born  to  good  luck,  Mich  ;  and  if  I  can  only  find  her,  I  can 
tell  her  something  that  she'll  be  glad  to  know.  This  is  the 
reason  I  wanted  you  to  look  for  her,  as  I  mentioned  awhile 
ago  ;  but,  I  suppose,  you  don't  have  time  now  to  do  any- 
thing for  your  friends." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  eagerly  inquired  Mich. 

"  Perhaps  you'll  hear,  if  you  come  along  with  me  ;  or  if 
you'd  rather,  and  will  promise  to  call  at  my  shop,  as  soon 
as  you  are  through  here,  I'll  wait  there  for  you." 

I'll  niver  fail  to  be  there." 

"  At  what  time  will  you  come  ?" 

"  By  five  o'clock,  sure." 

"  Well,  I'll  wait  till  that  time,"  Haun  carelessly  remarked, 
as  he  walked  away,  delighted  with  his  success.  He  had 
found  her  at  last.  But  what  excuse,"  said  he  to  himself, 
"shall  I  make  for  my  visit.  I  must  trump  up  something; 
but  that's  easily  arranged ;  I'll  think  it  over."  So  meditating 
and  resolving,  he  returned  to  his  shop,  and  entering  into  the 
remotest  corner  of  his  gloomy  den,  like  a  wolf  in  his  lair, 
curled  himself  up,  to  think  undisturbed,  and  devise  a  plot 
for  obtaining  possession  of  the  unsuspecting  girl,  who  was 
the  subject  of  his  machinations.  For  a  long  time  he  sat 
thus,  his  knees  drawn  up  to  his  chin,  and  his  eyes  glaring  at 
the  only  aperture  which  admitted  the  light,  till  rousing  him- 
self he  arose,  ana  with  a  chuckle  said,  "  That's  it,"  and  at 


THE     VISIT     AND     PLOT.  181 

the  same  moment  the  clock  in  the  neighboring  church  tower 
struck  five — and  as  the  last  reverberations  sounded,  Mich 
entered  the  street  door,  and  the  pawnbroker  advanced  with 
alacrity  to  meet  him. 

"  Here  I  am,  sir,"  Mich  exclaimed,  on  entering. 

"  No  doubt  of  it,"  answered  Haun;  "  I  see  you,  and  now, 
if  you  are  ready  I  am,  and  we  will  go  and  find  the  little  girl." 

They  started  at  once,  and  in  a  few  minutes  stood  before 
Doctor  Foster's  house.  Mich  seized  the  door  knob  and  was 
about  to  ring,  when  Haun  laid  his  hand  upon  Mich's  arm  and 
arrested  the  motion,  at  the  same  time  saying: 

"  Stop  a  moment.     Is  it  here  that  she  is  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  it  is." 

"  Doctor  Foster  lives  here,  don't  he  ?"  asked  Haun,  as  he 
read  the  name  on  the  door. 

"  Indade  he  does,  but  he  don't  live  all  alone." 

"  Now,  as  I'm  alive,  I've  just  this  moment  thought  of  an 
engagement  with  a  man  that  I  promised  to  meet  at  my  shop, 
at  this  very  time,  and  here  I  am  a  dozen  blocks  from  home. 
I  shan't  more  than  have  time  to  get  back.  I  must  come  an- 
other day,"  exclaimed  Haun,  with  a  look  of  chagrin  at  his 
pretended  disappointment ;  and  without  farther  remark,  after 
glancing  up  at  the  street  and  number  on  the  house,  turned 
and  walked  rapidly  away,  leaving  Mich  standing  with  his 
hand  on  the  knob,  and  his  mouth  open  with  surprise,  as  he 
gazed  after  the  rapidly  retreating  figure  of  his  late  compan- 
ion. Mich  was  aroused  by  the  voice  of  Biddy,  who,  looking 
up  from  a  basement  window,  cried  out: 


L82      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"Arrah,  Mich,  what'r  ye  blearin'  at  there?  Come  in 
wid  ye." 

Mich  descended  into  the  kitchen,  and  while  speaking  a 
moment  with  Biddy,  Anna  accidentally  entered.  She  saluted 
him  cordially,  and  inquired: 

"  Why  don't  you  come  oftener  to  see  me,  Mich  ?  I've  no 
one  to  talk  to  now  but  you." 

"  I  didn't  come  to  see  ye  now." 

"  You  didn't !  Then  who  did  you  come  to  see,  Doctor 
Foster  ?" 

"I'm  jist  afther  comin'  wid  the  ould  villain  of  a  pawn- 
broker, and  nobody  else,"  answered  Mich. 

"  Howly  Moses  !  an'  it's  choice  company  ye'r  kapin',"  in 
terrupted  Biddy. 

"  He's  none  o'  me  company  thin;  and  be  the  same  token 
where's  the  harm  of  it  if  he  was  ?"  answered  Mich,  while  his 
face  flushed  with  anger. 

"  Ye'd  better  let  Docthor  Fosther  hear  ye  say  that  same, 
ye  had." 

"  Sorry  a  bit  do  I  care  thin,  whither  Docthor  Fosther  or 
inny  other  docthor  hears  me  say  it." 

"  More  shame  to  ye  thin,"  retorted  Biddy. 

"  Mich,  what  made  you  do  it,"  asked  Anna,  soothingly. 

"  The  ould  limb  of  Satan,"  ejaculated  Biddy. 

"  If  ye'd  only  tell  me  what  ye  mane,  sure  I'd  understand 
ye  betther.  I  came  across  him  in  the  street,  and  he  asked 
me  if  I  knew  where  ye,  (Anna)  was  livin';  and  could  I  deny 
it,  and  tell  a  lie ;  and  he  wanted  me  to  go  wid  him  to  see  ye, 


THE     VISIT     AND     PLOT.  183 

as  he'd  somethin*  to  tell  ye ;  and  now  he's  gone  and  lift  me 
widout  as  much  as  sayin'  by  ye'r  lave.  No  such  bad  luck  in 
that,  aither;  and  now  it's  small  thanks  I'm  getting  for  me 
throuble." 

"Well,  well,  Mich,  don't  be  vexed,"  said  Anna,  laying 
her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Mich,  are  ye  spakin'  the  truth  ?"  demanded  Biddy,  sol- 
emnly. 

"Is  it  that  ye'r  after  askin'  me,  if  it's  the  truth  I'm 
spakin'  ?" 

Never  mind,  Mich,  Doctor  Foster'll  be  in  soon.  He  wants 
to  see  you,  he  told  me  to  tell  you  so.  Don't  care  about  what 
Biddy  said,  she's  vexed  at  that  bad  man's  coming  here  when 
Doctor  Foster  didn't  want  him  to  come." 

At  that  moment  Doctor  Foster's  step  was  heard  above; 
and  soon  the  whole  affair  was  repeated  to  him.  He  ques- 
tioned Mich  very  closely,  and  at  length  said: 

"  Mich,  I'm  sorry  you  brought  that  man  here.  I'm  afraid 
of  him.  I'm  afraid  of  his  villainous,  scheming  disposition. 
I  understand  he  has  tried  for  some  time  to  discover  Anna. 
If  he  would  come  boldly  and  openly  to  my  house,  I  should 
not,  perhaps,  be  suspicious;  but  he  skulks,  and  there's  evil 
in  him.  I  do  not  believe  you  would  do  anything  to  injure 
Anna;  but  he  is  plotting  some  villainy  which  will  soon 
develop  itself.  So  be  on  your  guard,  and  be  careful,  Mich, 
after  this,  what  you  tell  him." 

"  I'll  remember,  sir.  But,  wasn't  it  quare  he  didn't  come 
in  after  he'd  found  out  the  house  ?" 


184:      OLD     HAUN,      THE      PAWNBROKER. 

"  Humph,  boy,  he  only  wanted  to  find  out  where  she  was. 
That  locket  that  you  and  Anna  sold  him  has  something  to  do 
with  the  matter;  but  what,  I  can't  comprehend.  So  we'll 
wait  for  more.  But  if  I  find  the  old  devil  prowling  around 
here,  I'll  break  his  head  with  my  cane." 

"I  hope  sir,  ye'll  not  blame  me;  for  by  the  manner  of 
talkin'  he  has,  I  thought  he  was  her  best  friend  on  earth." 

"  No,  Mich,  no  harm  done  yet;  but  if  he  should  ask  you 
any  more  questions  you  must  not  answer  him;  or  at  least, 
not  give  him  any  information. 

"  Not  a  word  '11  he  iver  get  from  me  again,"  Mich  an- 
swered, as  bidding  Anna  good  bye  he  left.  He  had  gone  but 
a  short  distance  when  he  saw  the  pawnbroker  approaching 
him.  They  met  and  Haun  said  to  him  : 

"  Well !  how  is  your  little  friend  to-day  ?" 

"  About  the  same,  sir." 

"I  suppose  she  enjoys  herself  very  much  now." 

"  Ye'd  bether  belave  it." 

"  She'll  always  stay  with  the  doctor,  won't  she  ?  He  means 
to  keep  her." 

"  Perhaps  if  ye'd  ask  him  yerself  he'd  be  plased  to  an- 
swer ye." 

"  Has  she  heard  from  her  friends  ?"  asked  Haun. 

"  No  doubt  she  has  many  a  time." 

"  It's  my  opinion  you  don't  know  much  about  the  matter 
any  way." 

"  Ye're  excadin'  good  at  guessin,' "  Mich  answered,  as  he 
turned  off  abruptly  and  permitted  the  pawi  broker  to  con- 


THE     VISIT     AND     PLOT.  185 

tinue  on  his  way.  Mich  muttered  to  himself  :  "  The  dirthy 
ould  rascal,  to  be  afther  tryin'  to  stale  around  in  that  fashin', 
like  a  thafe  o'  the  world  as  he  is,  but  all  he's  found  out  by 
me  this  tune  won't  hurt  him." 

Haun  continued  on  his  way,  but  was  disappointed.  He 
had  laid  in  wait  for  Mich,  intending  on  his  leaving  Doctor 
Foster's  house  to  fall  in  with  him  as  if  accidentally,  and  thus 
worm  out  of  him  any  further  knowledge  the  latter  might 
have,  and  the  possession  of  which  he  considered  material  in 
enabling  him  to  carry  into  successful  operation  the  plans 
that  he  had  resolved  upon.  Still  he  had  learned  sufficient 
for  his  present  purpose,  and  so  returned  to  his  shop  to  ad- 
dress to  Cornell  the  following  answer  to  the  communication 
he  had  just  received. 

"  NEW  YORK,  May  \Wi,  18—. 
"  MR.  JAMES  CORNELL,  New  Orleans. 

"  Your  bond  for  ten  thousand  dollars  is,  according  to  its  terms 
payable.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  waste  time  or  words  ;  if  the 
amount  of  the  same  is  not  paid  before  the  first  day  of  July  next,  I 
shall  produce  the  legal  heir  to  the  estate  of  William  Leonard,  and 
put  her  in  possession  of  the  property  which  you  now  wrongfully  en- 
ioy.  This  is  not  a  vain  threat,  I  have  her  under  my  control,  and  you 
may  rest  assured  that  I  shall  not  quietly  release  the  amount  due  to  me 
from  you  and  leave  you  in  undisturbed  possession  of  the  property. 
Keep  your  word  with  me,  and  your  possession  shall  never  be  disturbed 
by  any  act  of  mine.  It  will  be  unnecessary  for  you  to  write  again 
until  you  are  prepared  to  make  the  remittance,  and  to  comply  fully 
with  the  conditions  of  your  agreement. 

"  Yours,  4c., 

"  CARLOS  HATJN." 


186       OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

Having  dispatched  this  letter,  the  pawnbroker  waited  for 
a  few  days  before  making  any  further  attempts  to  carry  out 
his  designs.  He  finally  determined,  however,  to  call  at  the 
house  in  the  absence  of  Dr.  Foster  for  the  purpose  of  having 
an  interview  with  the  ward  of  the  latter.  He  desired  to 
learn  something  further  of  her  former  history,  to  make  him- 
self acquainted  with  her  person,  and  also  by  a  partial  in- 
timacy to  dispel  the  aversion  that  a  sudden  unexplained  pre- 
sentation of  himself  would  create,  and  also  by  specious  ar- 
tifices to  establish  as  favorable  an  impression  of  his  own 
excellent  qualities  as  possible.  This  he  considered  a  neces- 
sary preliminary,  and  therefore  kept  watch  near  the  residence 
of  Doctor  Foster  till  he  was  certain  of  his  absence,  and  then 
went  boldly  to  the  door  and  rung  the  bell.  It  so  happened 
that  Anna  herself  opened  the  door.  Haun  recognized  her  in 
a  moment,  and  said : 

"  Good  morning,  Anna.  How  do  you  do  ?-  I'll  walk  in 
for  a  few  minutes.  I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

Anna  stepped  aside  and  allowed  him  to  pass.  She  was  at 
a  loss  what  to  do  and  therefore  made  no  reply  but  closed 
the  door  and  followed  after  him  through  the  hall  and  into 
the  sitting  room  which  he,  perceiving  the  door  open,  had  en- 
tered. There  they  were  met  by  Biddy,  who  had  come  up  to 
answer  the  bell,  and  who  looked  inquiringly  from  one  to  the 
other,  but  Anna's  countenance  was  blank  and  that  of  the 
new  comer  imperturbable.  Biddy  therefore  broke  silence  by 
inquiring  : 

"  Did  ye  want  the  docthor,  sir  ?" 


TEE     VISIT     AND     PLOT.  187 

"  No,  I  came  to  see  this  little  girl,  and  to  talk  with  her, 
we  shan't  need  you,  you  can  leave." 

"  Indade,  sir,  an'  I'll  not  stir  a  step  till  I  know  who  ye 
are  and  what  ye're  business  may  be  here,  sir,"  answered 
Biddy,  positively. 

"  Just  as  you  please  then,  I  only  want  to  tell  her  about  a 
friend  that  she  has,  that  I  used  to  know.  She  needn't  be 
afraid  of  me." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,  but  I  havn't  any  friend  except 
those  who  live  here,  and  I  don't  want  to  talk  with  you 
either,"  answered  Anna,  courageously. 

Haun's  eyes  glared  upon  her  a  moment,  but  the  look  of 
malice  soon  passed  from  his  features,  and  gave  place  to  his 
usual  crafty  expression. 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  like  me  very  well  now,  because  we 
have  n't  got  acquainted  yet,  but  you'll  like  me  a  great  deal 
better  when  you  have  heard  all  I'm  going  to  tell  you." 

"  Don't  ye  belave  him,  Anna,  he's  decavin'  ye,"  interrupt- 
ed Biddy,  who  had  stood  listening  attentively.  "  He's  the 
same  one  that  the  docthor  was  so  vexed  about,  I'm  sure  he 
is,  aii'  I'm  thinkin'  he'll  not  want  ye  to  be  spakin'  with  him 
at  all." 

"  I  know  it,  Biddy,"  I  haven't  forgotten  him.  If  the 
doctor  should  come  home  and  find  you  here,  sir,  I  think 
you'd  be  sorry." 

"  So  ho  !  then  you  haven't  forgotten  me  since  you  and 
your  Irish  friend  came  to  sell  that  trinket.  But  never  fear, 


188      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

the  doctor's  coming  ;  lie  and  I  are  good  friends,  I've  just 
seen  him.  I  suppose  you  are  his  daughter  now  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  am,  I  mean  to  live  with  him  always.  I've  got 
no  one  else  now,  to  live  with,"  said  Anna,  sadly. 

"  Och  !  darlint,  haven't  ye  me  too,  an'  don't  I  love  ye  as 
if  ye  were  my  own  flesh  and  blood  ?"  exclaimed  Biddy. 

"  Well !  well !  now  let  me  speak,  your  uncle  has  sent  me 
to  see  you.  You  recollect  your  uncle,  don't  you  ?" 

"  My  uncle  !  I  haven't  any  uncle." 

"  Why  yes,  you  have,  your  uncle  William  Leonard.  He 
was  a  captain  of  a  vessel  when  you  were  a  little  baby — 
you've  heard  of  him  ?" 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?"  Anna  eagerly  inquired. 

"  Know  him  1  he's  the  best  friend  I  have  in  the  world." 

"  I  thought  he  was  dead  ?  mother  used  to  say  so." 

"  No  more  dead  than  you  are  or  I,  I  saw  him  not  more 
than  two  weeks  since." 

"  Well  ;  he's  not  a  very  good  uncle,  or  he  would  have 
been  to  see  us  ;  I  don't  care  much  about  him  ?" 

"  But  what  if  he  couldn't,  what  if  he'd  been  hunting  and 
looking  for  you  and  your  mamma  almost  the  world  over,  for 
years.  But  I'm  sure  yxm'll  like  him  when  you  have  heard 
all  that  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Do,  tell  me,  won't  you  ?  all  about  my  uncle,"  Anna 
inquired,  in  her  eagerness  to  learn  something  of  one,  of 
whom  her  mother  had  so  often  spoken  before  her  death. 

"  Come  close  up  to  me  and  don't  be  afraid,  and  perhaps  I 
will." 


THE     VISIT     AND     PLOT.  189 

Anna  hesitated  for  a  moment,  but  her  curiosity  over- 
came her  dislike  and  she  approached,  and  stood  by  his  side, 
while  he  took  her  hand  in  his  own  and  continued  : 

"  So  you  didn't  know  that  this  uncle  has  been  looking  for 
you  so  long,  and  has  spent  ever  so  much  money  to  find  you, 
and  has  got  me  to  hunt  through  the  whole  city  after  you  ? 
Didn't  that  little  Irish  boy  tell  you  anything  about  my  pay- 
ing him  to  search  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mich  told  me  that  you  wanted  him  to  find  me,  but 
I  didn't  know  what  for." 

"  Well  that's  what  it's  for — it's  so  your  poor  uncle  won't 
go  crazy  from  wandering  over  the  world,  looking  here 
and  there  and  every  where  for  you,"  said  Haun,  as  he 
attempted  to  distort  his  features  into  assuming  a  sad  expres- 
sion. 

"  I  told  Doctor  Foster  what  Mich  said,  and  he  was  very 
angry,"  Anna  continued. 

•  "  That's  because  he  didn't  know  what  was  wanted,  but 
now  listen,  because  I'm  going  to  tell  you  all  about  your 
uncle  William  Leonard.  First,  then,  when  he  was  young  he 
went  to  sea  and  stayed  away  a  great  while,  and  when 
he  got  back  and  found  your  mother  married,  and  you  a  little 
thing  in  the  cradle,  he  went  off  to  Europe  and  travelled 
about  a  great  while  till  Le  became  rich,  and  owned  a  great 
many  vessels.  Then  after  awhile  he  came  back  home  and 
wanted  to  find  you  and  your  mother.  So  he  was  not  so 
very  wicked,  was  he  ?  He  looked  everywhere  as  I  told  you 
— but  you  had  left  your  old  home  in  New  England,  when  he 


J.90      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

went  back  there,  and  he  couldn't  find  you.  He  felt  very 
bad  about  it,  too." 

"  How  do  you  know  all  that  ?"  asked  Anna,  naively. 

"  Told  me  himself,"  answered  Haun. 

"  Did  he  ?  oh  I'm  so  sorry  mamma  didn't  know  it.  Where 
is  he  now  ?  I  should  like  to  see  him." 

"  Don't  be  impatient,  there's  time  enough  for  that  yet,  let 
me  tell  you  more  about  him:  he  wanted  to  find  you  that  he 
might  take  care  of  you,  and  that  you  might  live  with  him, 
and  then  he  would  buy  you  nice  clothes  and  everything  that 
could  make  you  happy.  He  wants  to  see  you  very  much, 
and  you  must  go  with  me  some  day  to  visit  him."  Haun 
stopped  to  note  the  effect  of  his  well  told  tale,  and  chuckled 
at  the  expression  of  interest  and  credulity  exhibited  in  the 
eager  and  fixed  look  of  Anna,  and  he  thought  to  himself 
that  his  work  was  half  accomplished,  and  the  task  easier 
than  he  had  anticipated. 

Anna  interrupted  his  thoughts  by  saying: 

"  Tell  me  more  of  him.  Don't  stop,"  while  Biddy  stood 
unconsciously  with  arms  a-kimbo,  and  mouth  open,  intently 
listening  to  the  recital. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  turn  me  out  of  doors  now  ?"  asked 
Haun,  with  a  grin. 

"  Oh,  no;  I  didn't  think  at  first  that  you  knew  my  uncle," 
answered  Anna,  deprecatingly. 

"  Well,  then,  I  hope  you  will  like  me  better  the  next  time 
I  come,  now  that  we  have  become  acquainted,"  said  Haun, 
rising  to  leave. 


THE     VISIT     AND     PLOT.  191 

11  Don't  go  yet,  won't  you  please  tell  me  where  my  uncle 
is  now  ?" 

"  Perhaps  I  will  the  next  time,  and  then  you  can  go  with 
me  to  see  him,  but  not  now." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  now." 

"  Would  you  go  and  live  with  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  I  couldn't  go  and  leave  good  Doctor  Foster  and 
Biddy,"  Anna  answered. 

"  Och,  the  darlint !"  exclaimed  Biddy. 

"  Why  couldn't  you  leave  him  ?"  pursued  Haun. 

"  Oh,  he  loves  me  so  much  he  wouldn't  let  me  go,  I  know." 

"  Is  that  all  the  reason  ?  why  your  uncle  would  love  you  as 
much  as  he  does,  and  would  do  a  great  deal  more  for  you, 
too,  besides  he's  your  mother's  brother." 

"  Yes,  I  know  ;  but " 

"  Well,  never  mind  now." 

"  Will  you  come  again  and  tell  me  where  my  uncle  is, 
and  when  I  can  see  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  some  time  ;  and  perhaps  he'll  come  along  with  me, 
though  he  can't  go  around  much  just  now,  but  you  can  go 
with  me  and  see  him,  you  know,  you'd  like  to,  wouldn't 
you  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  if  Doctor  Foster  says  I  may." 

"Well,  you  needn't  say  anything  about  it  to  Doctor 
Foster,  because,  perhaps,  your  uncle  '11  come  himself.  Now 
good  bye,  my  little  girl,  till  I  see  you  again,"  said  Haun,  as 
he  left  the  house. 

Anna  was  very  impatient  for  the  return  of  Doctor  Foster, 


192      OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

she  had  so  much  to  tell  him  about  the  discovery  of  her 
uncle,  and  about  her  visit  from  the  pawnbroker.  But  she 
was  astonished  and  totally  unprepared  for  the  ebullition  of 
passion  and  feeling,  which  her  narrative  of  the  events  of  the 
morning  produced  upon  him. 

She  listened  in  silence  to  his  muttered  threats  and  impre- 
cations, till  finally  approaching  him,  she  inquired  : 

"  What  i*  the  matter?" 

"  Matter,  child — matter  enough,  but  I  can  see  through  it 
all,  I  kno\v  just  how  it  '11  end,  but  it  shan't  though,  if  I  can 
help  it.  This  uncle  has  come  to  life  sooner  than  I  expected, 
and  just  at  the  wrong  tune,  too,  and  she's  on  nettles  to  know 
all  about  him.  I  suppose  the  next  thing  '11  be,  she'll  want 
to  go  and  see  him,  and  then  go  and  visit  him — all  from 
curiosity.  Why  the  devil  can't  a  woman  live  without 
knowing  everything.  There,  now,  don't  go  to  crying,  child,  I 
am  not  fretting  at  you,  you  couldn't  help  it.  I  believe  that 
old  devil  has  lied  to  you.  Don't  believe  a  word  of  it,  don't 
believe  he  ever  saw  your  uncle.  Did  he  say  he  ever  saw 
him  ?" 

"  I  guess  he  did,  I  don't  remember.  He  told  me  so  many 
things.  How  could  he  know  all  about  what  my  uncle 
thought  and  did,  if  he  had  not  seen  him  ?"  Anna  inquired. 

"  Humph  1  can  it  be  ?  If  it  should— but  I'll  thwart  him 
yet.  Didn't  I  say  there  was  something  in  the  wind,  when 
that  old  villain  hired  Mich  to  look  for  you  ?  I  knew  it, 
because  he'd  never  engage  in  any  honest  work." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 


THE     VISIT     AND     PLOT.  193 

"  Never  you  mind.     I'll  attend  to  him." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"  Just  be  easy,  I'll  tell  you  by  and  by.  Call  Biddy."  Anna 
did  so  ;  and  Biddy  soon  stood  before  them. 

"  Biddy,"  said  the  doctor.  "  I'm  going  out  a  few  moments. 
Do  you  lock  the  door,  and  keep  it  locked,  and  don't  you  ad- 
mit any  one  while  I  am  gone.  No  matter  who  comes  ;  do 
you  understand  ?" 

"  Yis,  sir,  but  won't  ye  ate  ye're  dinner  before  ye  go  ?  It's 
ready,  sir,  this  very  minute." 

"  No,  no  ;  hang  the  dinner  ;  that  can  wait.  Now  mind 
what  I  say.  Don't  yon  let  any  one  come  inside  of  that  door 
while  I  am  gone." 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  'tis  too  bad,  the  dinner'llbe  spoilt  intirely." 

"  Yery  well,  let  it  spoil  then,  you  and  Anna  can  eat  it." 

"  Och  !  indade,  sir,  we'd  never  think  of  snch  a  thing. 
I'll  kape  it  warm  till  ye  get  back." 

The  doctor  left  the  house  without  farther  remark,  and 
strode  away  as  fast  possible  for  the  purpose  of  seeking  the 
office  of  the  surrogate,  and  thus,  by  taking  at  once  the 
proper  steps,  invest  himself  with  due  authority  as  the  legal 
custodian  of  his  ward.  He  was  sorely  perplexed,  and  did  not 
know  how  to  interpret  the  circumstances  which  had  come  to 
his  knowledge,  nor  the  story  which  the  pawnbroker  had 
related.  True,  the  story  itself  was  plausible  enough,  there 
was  nothing  impossible  in  the  reported  re-appearance  of  the 
child's  uncle.  But  why  was  there  any  mystery  made  of  it  ? 
Why  operate  secretly  ?  Why  should  any  person  come  to 

9 


194      OLD     HA.UN,     THE     PAWNEE  OKEE. 

his  (the  doctor's)  house,  instead  of  applying  to  himselt 
directly  ?  How  carne  it  that  an  individual  of  so  very  ques- 
tionable character  as  the  pawnbroker,  should  have  been 
selected  for  the  purpose  of  restoring  her  to  her  uncle  ?  The 
story  might  be  true,  but  it  was  at  any  rate  surrounded  by 
strange  circumstances.  All  these  things  the  doctor  revolved 
in  his  mind  on  his  way  to  the  surrogate's  office,  where  he 
determined,  at  any  rate  so  far  as  he  could,  to  fortify  his  right 
to  the  possession  of  the  child.  He  found  the  officer  disen- 
gaged, and  stated  to  him  the  particulars  of  the  case  as  far 
as  necessary,  and  made  application  for  the  guardianship  of 
Anna  Hervey  during  her  minority. 

"  There  is  no  property,  I  understand  you  "to  say  ?"  re- 
marked the  Surrogate. 

"  An  old  Bible  and  a  few  trifles  of  no  value,  are  all  the 
poor  child  has  left." 

"  Very  well,  sir  ;  I  will  see  that  the  appointment  is  pro- 
perly entered  ;  that  is  all  that  is  required  of  you." 

"  Now  is  everything  done  ?"  inquired  the  doctor. 

"  Yes." 

"  So  that  no  person  can  exercise  any  control  over  her 
contrary  to  my  wishes,  or  without  my  consent  ?" 

"  Certainly.  But,  doctor,  what  do  you  want  of  this 
child?" 

"  I  want  her  to  love  me.  You  have  a  wife  and  children. 
She's  all  that  to  me." 

"  Well,  you  are  the  last  one  I  should  suspect  of  wanting 
either." 


THE     VISIT     AND     PLOT.  195 

"  Humph  1  I've  lived  sometime  in  the  world  without  them 
at  any  rate,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  left  the  office  to  return  to 
his  home.  He  felt  safe,  now  ;  his  mind  was  more  at  rest ; 
he  could  sit  down  and  eat  his  dinner  in  peace,  and  as  he 
entered  his  house  with  a  light  step,  and  lighter  heart,  he 
called  out : 

"  Hallo,  there,  Anna,  just  come  here.  Do  you  know  that 
you  are  mine,  now  ?" 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  you  are  mine  ;  that  I  am  bound  to  take 
care  of  you,  and  that  you  are  bound  to  live  with  me,  and 
that  no  one  can  take  you  away.  Do  you  hear  that  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  I  didn't  want  to  go  away.  Where  could  I 
go  ?  There's  no  one  but  you  to  take  care  of  me." 

"  Exactly  ;  but  you  know  this  uncle  that's  just  come  to 
life  after  so  many  years,  what,  if  he  should  come  and  want 
you  to  live  with  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  he's  a  very  good  uncle,  or  he  would  have 
come  before  Mamma  died.  I  wouldn't  go  ;  I  don't  want  to 
live  with  any  one  but  you,"  said  Anna,  as  she  threw  her 
arms  around  her  guardian's  neck,  and  kissed  him  affection- 
ately. 

"  God  bless  you  ;  there,  promise  me  you  will  never  leave 
the  old  doctor  to  live  alone,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  returned 
the  embrace. 

"  No  ;  my  mamma  gave  me  to  you.  I  don't  want  ever 
to  h've  with  any  one  else,"  Anna  answered. 

"  Would  ye  plase  to  ate  ye're  dinner  ?  its  gettin'  could," 


196      OLD     HATTNj     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

interrupted  Biddy,  as  she  came  into  the  room  for  the  third 
tune  since  the  doctor's  return. 

"  Dinner  ;  certainly,  we'll  eat  it  at  once,  just  as  good 
cold  as  hot,"  the  doctor  replied,  laughing  at  Bridget's 
anxiety. 

He  now  felt  better  satisfied,  and  thinking  that  he  had 
sufficiently  fortified  the  outworks,  after  thinking  the  matter 
over,  concluded  that  he  would  himself  go  and  see  Haun  and 
ask  an  explanation. 

He  saw  the  necessity  of  an  immediate  and  full  under- 
standing of  the  matter,  and  determined  at  whatever  cost  to 
have  it  before  resting.  With  this  purpose  in  his  mind,  he 
ate  his  meal,  in  excellent  spirits,  and  determined  on  the 
morrow  to  seek  a  personal  interview  with  the  pawnbroker. 


THREATS     OF     REVENGE.  197 


CHAPTER  IX 

THREATS  AND  VOWS  OF  REVENGE. 

"  YOUR  name  is  Haim  ?" 

"  It  is,  sir.     Anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?" 

"  Humph  !     Do  for  me.     Perhaps  you  don't  know  me." 

"  Haven't  that  pleasure,  sir,"  said  Haun,  in  his  most  fasci- 
nating manner;  at  the  same  time  industriously  rubbing  his 
hands  together. 

"You  haven't?  eh!  Well,  my  name  is  Foster,  Benjamin 
Foster.  Possibly  you  have  heard  the  name  before." 

"  Can't  say  I  ever  did;  but  I've  no  doubt  you  are  perfectly 
responsible." 

"  You  mistake  my  business  here.  I  have  called  to  inquire 
whether  you  were  at  my  house  yesterday,  and  what  youi 
object  was  in  calling  ?" 

"  Ah  !  now  I  begin  to  understand;  but  there's  no  necessity 
of  talking  quite  so  loud,  doctor.  Come  in  and  sit  down,  and 
I  shall  be  glad  to  answer  you." 

"  No,  sir,  my  business  will  be  quite  as  easily  disposed  of 
standing  as  sitting." 

"  Very  well,  suit  yourself." 


198      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"Now,  sir,  I've  no  time  to  spare,  will  you  answer  my 
question  ?" 

"  Let  me  think — you  inquired  what  I  came  to  your  house 
for  ?" 

"  That  was  the  question." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  I  was  there  ?" 

"  The  child  that  is  placed  under  my  charge,  and  that  you 
seem  to  be  somehow  interested  in,  told  me  so." 

"  So,  she  told  you,  did  she  ?  Well,  perhaps,  as  she  told 
you  that,  she  can  answer  your  other  question." 

"  Do  you  deny  that  you  were  there  ?" 

"Deny  it  I  Why  should  I  deny  it?  Is  there  any  law 
against  any  man's  entering  a  house  in  the  middle  of  the  day, 
when  he's  bidden  ?" 

"  Do  you  pretend  that  you  were  bidden  to  enter  my  house 
in  my  absence  ?  Then,  if  so,  you  are  now  forbidden  ever 
showing  your  face  inside  of  the  door  again.  Humph  1  fine 
state  of  things,  when  a  man's  dwelling  must  be  open  to  every 
rag-tag  and  bobtail  that  chooses  to  enter." 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  sir.  I  shall  have  no  occasion  to  visit 
you  again;  although,  if  I  should  wish  to,  I  should  probably 
come.  But  if  you  have  nothing  farther  to  say,  I  will  leave 
you,"  said  Haun,  with  perfect  coolness. 

"  Wait,  sir,"  the  doctor  replied,  with  emphasis.  "  I  have 
something  farther  to  say.  Toll  me  what  your  business  was  at 
my  house  ?" 

"  I  thought  I  had  mentioned  that  I  called  to  see  the  little 
girl  that's  living  with  you." 


THREATS     OF     REVENGE.  199 

"Yes,  and  what  business  had  you  there  ?  what  have  you 
to  do  with  her  ?" 

"  Now,  sir,  I'll  tell  you  what  business  I  had  there,  and 
why  I  went  to  see  the  child:  I  was  sent  by  another." 
"Humph!  sent  by  another.     Who  sent  you?" 
"One  that  has  a  better  right  to  her  than  you  have." 
"  Man,  will  you  speak  ?  who  sent  you  ?" 
"  Don't  get  excited,  doctor,  or  I  might  take  it  into  my 
head  not  to  tell  you  anything  farther;  but  I  will.     I  was 
sent  by  her  Uncle  Leonard.     Perhaps  you  didn't  know  that 
she  has  an  uncle.     She  has,  though,"  said  Haun  with  a  grin. 
"  "Where  is  he  ?     Tell  me  where  he  is  ?" 
Haun  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  replied: 
"  He's  not  here  in  the  city,  but  not  far  away." 
"  Impossible !     Villain,  you  Me — it's  a  damned  lie.     It's 
some  of  your  cursed  trickery — it's  all  a  scheme.     Uncle  I 
the  same  kind  uncle  that  deserted  his  sister  while  living,  and 
left  her  to  die  in  poverty.     Is  this  the  uncle  that  is  now  so 
anxious  to  claim  his  niece  ?    Why  don't  he  come  himself  ? 
Is  he  afraid  to  show  himself  among  honest  men,  by  daylight  ? 
Now,  sir,  go  to  him  that  hired  you,  and  tell  him  that  he  need 
send  no  more  pimps  to  my  house.     The  child  remains  with 
me,  and  under  my  roof  until  of  her  own  free  will  and  incli- 
nation she  seek  another  home." 

"  He'll  come  soon  enough,  let  me  tell  you;  and  he'll  have 
her,  too." 

"Not  while  I  live!"   the  doctor  replied,  emphatically. 
"  And  as  for  yourself,  if  I  hear  of  your  ever  prowling  around 


200 


ray  house,  or  entering  my  door  again,  under  any  pretence 
whatever,  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  body,  as  sure  as 
there's  strength  left  me  to  do  it."  And  so  saying  the  doctor 
turned  and  left  the  pawnbroker's  shop ;  leaving  the  worthy 
proprietor  standing,  dumb  with  passion,  behind  the  counter. 

He  strode  rapidly  along,  without  noticing  friends  or  ac- 
quaintances whom  he  chanced  to  meet.  Intent  only  on 
reaching  a  place  where,  undisturbed  and  unobserved,  he 
might  think  over  the  events  of  the  morning,  and  resolve 
upon  the  course  to  be  taken  by  him  in  this  emergency.  To 
him  the  whole  matter  was  now  plain.  He  could  not  doubt 
the  truth  of  Haun's  words,  so  far  as  they  related  to  the 
uncle  William  Leonard,  and  to  the  fact  of  his  being  still 
living ;  for  his  relation  of  the  circumstances,  so  far  as  it  went, 
was  consistent  with  the  details  of  Mrs.  Hervey's  early  history, 
and  which  he  had  no  reason  to  doubt.  The  idea  of  ITaun's 
having  obtained  such  knowledge  of  the  family  surreptitiously 
did  not  once  occur  to  him.  He  therefore  supposed  that 
Anna's  uncle,  William  Leonard,  must  be  still  living,  and  in 
communication  with  Haun,  and  that  he  had  employed  the 
latter  to  search  out  his  relative,  for  the  purpose,  undoubtedly, 
of  obtaining  possession  of  her;  and  on  such  a  hypothesis 
could  also  be  explained  Haun's  object  in  searching  for  the 
girl,  and  in  oifering  Mich  a  compensation  for  assisting  in  the 
search.  He  abandoned  the  idea  of  Haun's  having  any  other 
inducement  to  prosecute  his  attempt. 

But  why  should  not  the  uncle  himself  appear,  and  boldly 
claim  her — was  a  question  which  he  asked  himself;  but  to 


THREATS     OF     KEVENGE.  201 

which  there  was  no  response.  Why  should  he  employ  an 
agent,  and,  above  all,  such  an  agent  ?  and  why  proceed  so 
cautiously  and  secretly  ?  Here,  again,  was  a  problem  that  he 
could  not  solve.  The  more  he  revolved  the  matter  in  his 
mind  the  more  obscure  it  became  to  him ;  till,  after  working 
himself  into  a  state  of  nervous  excitement,  the  doctor  gave 
it  up  in  despair,  and  resolved  to  wait  until  time  should  make 
all  things  plain.  Still,  he  determined  to  keep  watch ;  for 
he  feared  no  means  would  be  left  untried  by  Haun,  to  ac- 
complish his  ends,  and  gain  possession  of  the  child,  either  by 
fair  means  or  foul.  He  remembered  the  threat  made  by 
Haun,  in  his  anger,  and  determined  to  thwart  him.  And, 
with  these  thoughts  whirling  through  his  mind,  and  having 
marked  out  the  course  to  be  taken,  subject  to  the  different 
contingencies  that  might  occur — he  left  his  office  and  took 
his  way  to  his  home. 

Arrived  there  he  found  Anna  seated  as  usual  by  the 
window,  and  busily  engaged  -with  her  needle.  She  looked 
up  when  Doctor  Foster  entered,  and  said  : 

"  Why,  how  you  look,  I  don't  believe  you  feel  well,  are 
you  sick  ?" 

"  No,  no,  child,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  What  have  you  come  home  for  ?  it's  not  meal  time  yet." 

"  I  know  that,  but  I  came  home  to  talk  to  you.  I  want 
you  to  put  away  your  work  and  listen  to  me  ;  I've  something 
to  tell  you." 

"  Why,  what  can  it  be  ?"  Anna  inquired  curiously,  as  she 
approached  the  doctor. 

9* 


202      OLD     IIAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Anna,  you  know  what  that  man  that  came  to  see  you 
when  I  was  away,  told  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  he  said  he  knew  my  uncle." 

"  Well ;  I  have  been  to  see  him,  and  have  talked  with 
nim,  and  he  says  that  your  uncle  sent  him  to  see  you.  Now 
you  are  not  old  enough  to  judge  for  yourself ;  but  I  don't 
believe  from  the  little  I  have  learned,  that  this  uncle,  wher- 
ever he  may  be,  is  the  right  kind  of  a  man  for  you  to  live 
with;  and  more  than  that,  you  wouldn't  want  to  leave  me, 
would  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  you  know  I  would  not  leave  you,  I  am  your's,  and  I 
don't  care  if  my  uncle  does  come  for  me.  I  thought  I  should 
like  to  see  him,  because  you  know  I  heard  mamma  speak  of 
him  so  often  ;  but  if  he  is  not  a  good  man,  then  I  don't  want 
to  see  him  at  all." 

"  But,  Anna,  listen  ;  he  says  he  will  take  you  away  from 
me  and  have  you  live  with  him,  whether  you  want  to  go  or 
not." 

"  Oh,  don't  let  him  take  me.  I  won't  go.  What  shall  I 
do  ?"  exclaimed  Anna,  in  an  agitated  manner,  and  clinging 
to  the  doctor's  arm. 

"  No,  Anna,  he  shall  not  take  you  ;  your  mother  gave  you 
to  me,  and  the  Surrogate  has  appointed  me  your  guardian, 
and  I  have  the  control  over  you — so  that  he  has  no  right  to 
take  you  away  from  me,,  and  cannot  get  you  unless  you  have 
a  mind  yourself  to  go,  when  I  don't  know  it ;  you  wouldn't 
do  that  ?" 

"  How  can  you  think  it  ?  you  don't  belief  e  I  would  ?" 


THREATS     OF     KEVENGE.  203 

"  No  I  hope  not.  He  might  not  come  himself,  but  might 
send  some  one,  perhaps  the  same  bad  man  that  was  here 
yesterday,  but*  you  mustn't  go  with  any  one.  He  may  try 
and  coax,  and  say  a  great  deal  that  isn't  true — tell  you  of 
so  many  nice  things  that  he'll  give  you,  and  of  what  he  will 
do  for  you,  and  all  that,  but  don't  you  believe  a  word  he 
says.  And  one  other  thing,  remember  ;  I  don't  want  you 
should  go  out  alone  to  walk,  always  have  Biddy  go  with 
you,  and  when  the  door  bell  rings,  let  Biddy  answer  it ;  don't 
you  go,  for  perhaps  he  will  come  again." 

"He  said  he  would,"  Anna  replied;  "but,  doctor,  why 
don't  my  uncle  himself  come  ?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Anna — that's  what  seems  to  me 
strange." 

"  I  think  my  uncle  can't  be  a  very  kind  uncle,  or  he 
wouldn't  have  gone  off  and  left  my  mother  as  he  did,  so, 
after  all,  I  don't  care  about  seeing  him." 

"  Well,  it  don't  make  much  difference  who  or  what  he  is  ; 
he  don't  get  you,  that's  settled." 

"  I  should  be  afraid  to  go  with  that  man  that  came  here, 
I  was  dreadfully  afraid  of  him  the  first  tune  I  saw  him, 
when  Mich  and  I  went  to  sell  that  locket,  and,  oh  !  did  you 
get  that  ?" 

"  No  !  but  never  mind  the  locket  now ;  call  Biddy,  I  want 
to  speak  to  her." 

When  Biddy  entered,  the  doctor  said  : 

"  Biddy,  don't  you  let  that  man  in  the  house  again  if  he 
should  call :  mind  !  on  no  pretext,  whatever." 


204:      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Sure  it  was  Anna  herself  that  let  him  in.'' 

"  Well,  Anna  must  not  go  to  the  door  again.  You 
answer  the  bell  when  it  rings,  and  remembef  what  I  say, 
that  man  must  not  come  inside  of  the  house  again." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  will,"  Biddy  answered,  wonderingly. 

"And  another  thing,  when  Anna  goes  to  walk  you  go 
with  her,  she  must  not  go  alone,  understand  ?" 

"  Indade  I  do,  sir." 

"  Well,  that  is  all  now,  I  must  go  back  to  my  office  again. 
Humph,  afternoon  'most  gone,"  said  the  doctor,  looking  at  his 
watch.  "  What  shall  I  bring  you,  Anna  ?  a  book  ?  Yes, 
that's  it,  a  pretty  story  book — good  bye." 

Away  he  went  with  a  lightened  heart,  thinking  Anna's 
antipathy  to  the  pawnbroker  a  sufficient  safeguard  against 
her  being  cajoled  and  enticed  away  by  him.  He  therefore 
felt  secure  in  his  possession,  and  turned  cheerfully  to  other 
duties. 

The  pawnbroker  had  been,  however,  differently  engaged. 
After  the  departure  of  Doctor  Foster  from  his  shop  he 
remained  in  the  same  position,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
•  retreating  form  of  his  late  visitor,  until  it  disappeared  in  the 
distance,  while  his  face  became  livid  with  rage,  and  the 
muscles  of  his  mouth  moved  spasmodically,  giving  him  a 
hideous,  ghastly  look.  Then  with  firmly  closed  lips  he 
withdrew  slowly  and  meditatively  into  his  inner  apartment ; 
and  sinking  his  head  upon  his  hands,  as  was  his  custom 
when  deeply  excited,  sat  in  sullen  thought :  there  was  the 
recklessness  of  uncontrollable  anger  in  his  heart,  and  a  fixed 


TH  KEATS     OF     KEVENGB.  205 

determination  in  his  manner.  He  vowed  revenge — an  in- 
tense hatred  was  now  added  to,  or  rather  consumed,  the  pas- 
sion of  avarice  that  had  hitherto  been  almost  the  sole  tenant 
of  his  bosom.  He  had  been  insulted,  threatened — treated 
like  a  dog,  and  he  would  have  revenge — revenge  at  any 
sacrifice. 

"  He'll  find  out  to  his  cost  who  he's  dealing  with,"  mut- 
tered Haun,  as  he  clutched  his  right  hand  convulsively; 
"  I'll  have  her  from  him  if  I  die  for  it,"  he  continued,  and 

then  for  a  moment  relapsed  into  silence.    "And  that 

villain,  Cornell,  he'll  find  out  that  I'm  not  to  be  trifled  with, 
after  helping  him  to  a  fortune.  But  that's  nothing  ;  I'll 
have  that  child  from  him.  But  what'll  I  do  with  the  little 

after  I  get  her  ?  perhaps  have  to  throttle  her  to  put 

her  out  of  the  way,  finally." 

Hauu  continued  for  a  long  time  in  meditation,  occasion- 
ally breaking  out  into  some  exclamation  of  hatred,  or  some 
execration,  as  his  thoughts  reverted  from  Doctor  Foster  to 
Cornell;  till  having  partly  matured  his  plans,  he  becamo 
more  tranquil,  and  having  somewhat  recovered  his  equanim- 
ity, started  out  and  took  his  way  again  to  Doctor  Marsh's 
office.  After  walking  up  and  down  the  street  past  the  place 
several  times,  until  he  saw  the  doctor  enter  his  office  ;  he 
stepped  up  to  Mich,  as  he  was  about  driving  off,  and  said  : 

"  Mich  I  I  want  to  talk  with  you  a  little,  wait  a  few 
minutes." 

"  Well,  be  quick  then,  for  I  must  be  afther  putting  up 
the  horse  jist  now." 


206      OLD     H  A  U  N  ,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"You're  a  smart  boy,  Mich,  you'll  make  your  fortune 
soon." 

"  If  it's  to  blarney  me,  ye'd  have  me  wait,  thin  I'll  be 
going.  I  know  ye're  thricks,"  Mich  answered,  as  he  took 
up  the  reins. 

"  I'm  not  trying  to  blarney  you,  I've  got  something  to 
say  ;  wait  for  a  moment." 

"  Well,  then,  what'll  ye  have  of  me  ?" 

"  Not  much,  only  that  when  you  go  to  see  your  young 
friend  again,  I  want  you  to  stop  at  my  shop,  as  I've  got 
something  to  send  her." 

"  Och  1  and  is  that  all  ?" 

"  Yes,  will  you  ?" 

"  Well,  I'll  thry  to  remimber  it,"  answered  Mich,  as  he 
drove  off,  leaving  Haun  standing  on  the  walk,  muttering  to 
himself  :  "  I'm  afraid  I  shan't  be  able  to  manage  him." 

The  fact  that  the  pawnbroker  had  come  so  far  and  taken 
such  trouble  for  the  purpose  of  engaging  Mich  to  do  so 
small  an  errand,  instead  of  procuring  some  person  nearer, 
or  going  himself,  rather  excited  Mich's  suspicions,  and  so, 
after  he  had  put  up  the  horse,  he  trudged  along  home, 
resolved  to  communicate  his  suspicions  to  his  mother,  and 
take  her  counsel  in  the  premises.  So  as  soon  as  he  had 
reached  home,  and  got  seated,  he  related  to  his  mother  the 
whole  matter,  and  also  stated  his  suspicions,  and  asked  her 
what  he  had  better  do.  '  She  advised  him  to  communicate 
to  Doctor  Foster  Haun's  request,  and  to  lay  the  whole  mat- 
ter before  him,  and  to  be  guided  implicitly  by  his  advice. 


THREATS     OF     REVENGE.  207 

He  determined  to  do  so,  and  hurrying  through  with  his 
evening  meal,  sought  the  residence  of  Doctor  Poster. 
Mich  found  him  fortunately  at  home,  and  related  the  con- 
versation that  had  just  taken  place  between  him  and  the 
pawnbroker,  and  of  his  inquisition  on  his  meeting  of  the 
latter  a  few  days  previously. 

"  What  did  you  tell  him,  Mich  ?"  the  doctor  inquired, 
anxiously. 

"  Indade,  sir,  it's  very  little  the  wiser  he  is  for  what 
he's  learned  from  me.  He  thried  to  find  out  a  great  many 
things  about  Anna,  sir,  but  in  faith  I  couldn't  tell  him  any- 
thing, for  the  best  rason  in  the  world,  I  didn't  know  any- 
thing myself." 

"  Well,  that  is  right,  so  far  ;  but,  Mich,  you  must  not 
mind  what  he  says  hereafter.  He  pretends  that  Anna's 
uncle  has  engaged  him  to  recover  her.  Whether  this  is  a 
mere  pretence  or  not,  I  do  not  know,  but  no  one  can  have 
her  away  from  me.  He's  anxious  to  have  you  help  him. 
Don't  you  see  that,  Mich  ?" 

"  In  faith  I'm  of  your  mind  intirely,  but  I'd  ate  my  own 
head  before  I'd  help  him.  But  why  don't  the  uncle  himself 
come  thin  to  see  her,  or  send  to  ye,  instead  of  getting  sich 
a  dirty  ould  villain  ?" 

"  True,  it's  no  great  recommendation  for  him  to  employ 
such  a  fellow  ;  but  I  expect  I  shall  have  trouble  with  him 
yet." 

"  The  Lord  save  us  I  if  I'd  such  an  uncle  I'd  disown  him, 
intirely,  that's  what  I  would." 


208       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBKOKEJS. 

"  Now,  Mich,  I  believe  I  can  trust  you.  I  was  afraid  at 
first  that  I  couldn't  :  I  am  satisfied  now,  but  be  careful 
what  you  do  ;  pretend  to  be  on  his  side,  and  worm  out  of 
him  all  you  can  ;  and  then  let  me  know  everything  at  once, 
there  must  be  no  delay  ;  there'll  be  no  harm  in  it.  We 
must  circumvent  him  some  way." 

"  Why,  doctor,  would  that  be  right  ?"  Anna  interrupted. 

"  Can't  help  it  child  ;  we  must  turn  his  own  weapons 
against  himself,"  the  doctor  answered. 

"  You  need'nt  be  afraid  of  my  leaving  you.  I  could  not 
love  this  uncle — I  know  I  could'nt,"  said  Anna. 

"  Child,  you  know  precious  little  of  this  world.  Great  deal 
he'd  care  whether  you  loved  him  or  not,  or  whether  you 
wanted  to  go  or  not." 

"  I  would'nt  go  any  way." 

"  I'm  afraid  he  would'nt  stop  to  ask  you." 

"  Why  !  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Nothing,  nothing,  child.  I  shall  frighten  her  to  death 
some  of  these  days,"  muttered  the  doctor.  "  But,  Mich  !  you 
said  that  the  old  villain  wanted  you  to  stop  at  his  shop,  in 
order  that  you  might  take  something  from  him  to  Anna. 
You  have'nt  been  there  yet,  have  you  ?" 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  thought  I'd  spake  with  yerself  first." 

"  That's  right,  Mich  1  but  I'd  like  to  know  what  he's  after, 
and  if  you  can  just  as  well  go  now  as  any  time  I  wish  you 
would." 

"  Jist  as  well  now  as  any  time,  and  if  ye  wish  it,  I'll  be  off 
at  once." 


THREATS    OF     REVENGE.  209 

"  Right,  Mich,  go  ;  and  perhaps  I  shall  be  at  home  when 
you  come  again." 

Mich  seized  his  hat  and  dashing  off,  ran  directly  to  Haun's 
shop,  and  entering  in  haste,  said  : 

"  Now  I'm  here,  sir,  what  '11  ye  have  of  me  ?" 
•  "You're  rather  late,  it  seems." 

"  Ye  don't  suppose  I'd  be  comin'  widout  me  supper,  do  ye  ?" 

"  So  you  think  more  of  your  supper  'than  you  do  of  your 
young  friend,  eh  ?" 

"  Frindor  no  frind,  I'm  not  yet  so  used  to  starvin'  that  I 
begin  to  like  it." 

"  Mich,  how  would  you  like  to  be  rich  and  have  as  much 
as  you  can  eat,  and  have  a  nice  house  to  live  in  ?" 

"  How  would  I  like  it  ?  Jist  let  me  thry  it  first  and  then 
I'd  be  bether  able  to  tell  ye." 

"Well,  Mich,  I'm  going  to  tell  you  how  you  can  earn 
enough  to  buy  you  a  nice  supper  every  night  for  a  year,  if 
you'll  do  what  I  want  you  to." 

"  Ah,  ye'd  intice  a  bird  from  its  nest  wid  the  flatthering 
tongue  ye  have.  Now  d'ye  mane  it  sure  ?"  said  Mich,  eagerly. 

"  Certainly  I  mean  it,  and  I'll  do  just  what  I  say,  if  you 
only  know  enough  to  keep  a  close  mouth,  and  do  as  I  wish 
you  to." 

"  It's  aisily  done,  no  doubt,"  Mich  answered. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say  ;  it's  an  offer  that  you  don't 
get  often.  Will  you  do  it  ?" 

"  Troth  an'  I  will,  thin,  and  thank  ye  into  the  bargain," 
Mich  answered,  with  seeming  enthusiasm. 


210       OLD      HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBKOKEB. 

"Well,  now  mind  tfhat  you're  about,  for  if  you  should 
tell  any  one  what  you  learn  from  me,  you'll  wish  you'd  never 
been  born,"  said  Haun,  savagely. 

"  Never  ye  fear,  it's  not  every  day  I  get  such  an  offer." 

"  Well,  then,  if  we  succeed  I'll  give  you  what  I  promised." 

"  Now  what  do  you  want  of  me  ?" 

"  It's  this,  Mich  :  Your  little  friend  Anna  has  an  uncle, 
who  has  been  trying  for  a  great  while  to  find  her,  so  that  he 
could  take  her  to  live  with  himself.  He  has  just  found  out 
where  she  is,  and  wants  to  get  her,  of  course.  He's  rich  and 
can  give  her  everything  she  wants,  and  make  a  fine  lady  of 
her.  But  you  see,  Mich,  this  Doctor  Foster  pretends  to  have 
taken  a  fancy  to  her,  but  what  he  wants  of  her  the  Lord 
only  knows  ;  at  any  rate  he's  determined  to  keep  her  away 
from  her  uncle  ;  her  own  blood  relation,  who  lives  down  in 
New  Orleans,  or  some  other  place  down  South,  and  so  he 
can't  come  here  himself,  but  he  is  a  friend  of  mine  and  wants 
me  to  get  his  niece  for  him,  which  I  mean  to  do.  But  this 
Foster  won't  let  me  have  her  nor  see  her  if  he  knows  it,  and 
it  was  only  yesterday  that  he  came  here  to  abuse  me,  because 
I  called  at  his  house  to  speak  with  her.  There  is  something 
wrong  about  that  man,  Mich.  But  what  I  want  of  you  is  to 
help  me  get  possession  of  the  girl.  She  herself  would  be 
willing  enough  if  it  was'nt  for  that  doctor,  and  if  we  succeed 
I'll  give  you  a  part  of  what  I  shall  get  for  my  trouble — it'll 
be  something  handsome,  Mich,  I  tell  you.  So  if  I  can't  get 
at  the  girl  any  other  way,  you  must  have  her  go  out  walking 


THREATS     OF     REVENGE.  211 

with  you,  and  then  I  can  speak  with  her  in  the  street — we're 
bound  to  make  our  fortune,  Mich,  an't  we  ?" 

"  I  honestly  belave  it,  sir,"  Mich  answered,  solemnly. 
'"  And  then  her  uncle's  rich,  and  no  children  either — not 
the  shadow  of  one.     What  luck  there  may  be  in  "store  for 
her,  think  of  that." 

"  Faith,  if  I  could  belave  it  would  come  to  that,  wouldn't 
I  thry  to  put  her  in  the  way  of  enjoyin'  it  ?" 

"  Well,  Mich,  only  do  as  I  direct  you,  and  it  will  all 
come  out  right." 

"  Never  ye  fear  me  ;  but  whin  would  you  like  me  to 
bring  her  wid  me  ?" 

"  Not  just  yet.  I'll  tell  you  when  I'm  ready.  But,  Mich, 
I  fancy  it  would  be  as  well  for  you  when  you  see  her  again, 
to  tell  her  about  this  uncle  ;  tell  her  how  much  he  wants  to 
see  her  after  the  many  years  he's  been  hunting  for  her,  and 
how  glad  he  is  at  having  found  her,  and  what  a  pleasant 
home  she'll  have  when  she  goes  to  live  with  him,  and  how 
he'll  give  her  everything  she  wants  ;  but  mind,  Mich,  that 
that  old  doctor  don't  hear  you  ;  that's  all  that  you  have  to 
be  afraid  of,  and  don't  let  her  tell  him  either,  or  perhaps 
he'd  shut  her  up,  and  not  let  her  see  you  nor  any  body  else 
again  for  a  year  or  longer." 

"  It's  a  cryin'  shame  to  be  after  abusin'  the  poor  innocent 
after  that  fashion,  ain't  it,  sir  ?" 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  Haun  answered,  with  a  sad  look  and 
tone,  while  a  gleam  of  pleasure  shot  for  an  instant  from  his 
eyes. 


212      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  But  I'll  blarney  her  till  she'll  think  the  moon  is  made  of 
cheese,  only  ye  see  onct." 

"  Here  are  some  nice  picture  books,  put  them  in  your 
pocket,  and  give  them  to  her  when  she's  alone.  Her  uncle 
sent  them  to  her." 

"  I'll  go  and  see  her,  now,"  Mich  answered,  as  he  received 
the  articles. 

"  Well,  come  around  again  after  awhile,"  Haun  cried  out 
as  Mich  left  the  shop. 

Mich  started  off  at  a  rapid  pace  until  he  had  gone  some 
distance,  and  then  gradually  relaxed  his  speed  till  he  almost 
stood  still,  while  he  muttered  to  himself : 

"  An'  is  this  yer  own  self,  Mich  Lynch,  to  be  listenin'  to 
the  ould  rascal — fa'th  but  he's  an  oucommon  one — the 
wicked  thafe,  but  I'll  tell  the  docthor  every  word  of  it." 

After  having  communed  with  himself  in  this  wise,  he 
darted  off,  and  soon  arrived  at  the  residence  of  the  doctor, 
whom  he  found  impatiently  waiting  his  return.  Anna  was 
in  the  room,  and  Mich  hesitated  about  making  his  commu- 
nication before  her  ;  for,  from  what  he  had  observed,  he 
concluded  that  the  doctor  did  not  wish  her  to  become 
cognizant  of  his  fears  and  suspicions.  Therefore  Mich  said, 
earnestly  : 

"  I've  got  a  word  to  spake  to  ye,  docthor,  as  soon  as 
I've  given  Anna  the  beautiful  things  her  uncle  sent  her  by 
me." 

"  She  don't  want  anything  from  her  uncle  ;  I'm  her  uncle 
and  her  father  too,  and  she  don't  want  any  other,"  ex- 


THREATS      OF     KEVENGE.  213 

claimed  the  doctor,  impetuously,  as  he  started  up  with  the 
intention  of  taking  the  articles  from  Mich's  hand.  "Burn 
them,  Mich  ;  don't  touch  them,  Anna.  Just  what  I 
thought,"  he  continued,  as  he  observed  that  Anna  had 
already  received  them. 

"  Oh,  don't  burn  it  1"  she  exclaimed,  entreatingly. 

"  Well,  keep  them,  then,  but,  Mich,  don't  you  bring 
anything  more  here  from  him,  I  won't  have  it.  By  the 
way,  what  was  it,  Mich,  you  were  going  to  say.  Anna,  you 
run  down  and  see  Biddy  a  little  while,  I  want  to  talk  with 
Mich." 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  want  me  to  go  and  see  Biddy  for, 
so  I  shan't  hear  what  Mich  tells  you,  and  you  are  going  to 
talk  about  me,  I  know  you  are,"  said  Anna. 

"  Get  along  with  you ;  your  curiosity  will  be  the  death 
of  you,"  replied  the  doctor,  laughing. 

"  Now,  Mich,"  he  continued,  as  Anna  disappeared  "  What 
is  the  game  ?  "  out  with  it." 

Mich,  then,  related  to  the  doctor  all  that  had  occurred  in 
his  interview  with  Haun. 

"  Did  he  say  that,  Mich  ?" 

"  Upon  me  word  he  did,  sir.  He  thinks  he'll  have  her 
soon,  in  spite  of  ye  ;  so  ye'd  needs  look  sharp  after  him." 

"  Oh,  if  I  only  had  him  here  this  very  minute,"  exclaimed 
the  doctor,  through  his  closed  teeth  ;  "  but  his  time  will 
come,"  he  added: 

"  Och!  Docthor,  ye'll  spoil  it  all  if  ye  let  on  that  I've  told 
ye.  Don't  be  afther  doing  that." 


214      OLD     II  A  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"No,  no,  Mich,  I  don't  mean  that;  but  I  can't  stand  it. 
He's  got  some  evil  design.  I  must  watch  him  and  thwart 
him.  I  do  believe  he  means  to  get  possession  of  her  at  once, 
in  some  way,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  in  an  excited  manner. 

"  Don't  ye  b'lave  that  her  uncle  sint  for  her  thin  at  all, 
Docthor  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  Haun  or  her  uncle.  I 
don't  care  whether  he  did  or  not.  But  I'll  find  out  all 
about  this  uncle  first,  before  I  yield  her  to  him.  He  said 
New  Orleans,  did  he  ?  You're  sure  of  that  ?  He  may  be 
acquainted  with  her  uncle — that's  possible!  and  if  so,  un- 
doubtedly expects  to  make  money  by  delivering  her  to  him. 
By  jove!  I  believe  that's  it;  and  that  would  account  for  his 
knowledge  of  family  matters.  Look  sharp,  Mich,  and  we'll 
ferret  out  the  old  rat.  You  shall  be  well  paid  for  your 
trouble,  Mich." 

"  Paid  !  indade,  sir,  it's  not  for  pay  that  I'd  serve  a 
friend." 

"  Well,  well,  Mich,  that  is  right.  Now  what  shall  we  do  ? 
Let  me  think.  I'll  tell  you  what:  just  trail  him  along  for 
a  while,  till  I  get  something  arranged,  and  we'll  catch  him 
on  his  own  hook.  Mind  that  he  don't  mistrust  anything. 
Let  him  imagine  that  Anna  is  pleased  with  the  idea  of  see- 
ing her  uncle,  and  is  ready  to  go  with  him  after  a  few  days. 
But,  Mich,  keep  your  wits  about  you.  Try  and  find  out 
exactly  what  course  he  intends  to,  or  wishes  to  take,  and 
then  let  me  know.  This  trickery  is  poor  business,  Mich,  I 
own,  and  I'm  ashamed  of  it:  but  it  can't  be  avoided.'* 


THREATS     OF     REVENGE.  215 

"  No  great  harm  in  decavin'  him ;  but  I'll  mind  and 
kape  out  of  his  way  afther  he  finds  out  I've  been  tellin' 

ye." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  you  better,  for  he's  a  desperate  man,  and 
will  stop  at  nothing.  But  I  think  we'll  foil  him  this  time. 
Anna  mustn't  go  out  of  the  house  alone,  until  this  matter  is 
settled  some  way.  Poor  thing,  it's  a  pity  to  have  to  shut 
her  up  on  his  account." 

"  Indade  it  is  that." 

"Well,  good  night,  Mich;  it's  time  you  were  home  with 
your  mother.  Good  hours  make  good  men — remember  that, 
Mich.  Never  knew  a  boy  that  spent  his  time  in  the  streets 
amount  to  anything." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I'll  go  now,  for  she'll  be  lookin'  for  me."  Mich 
left  the  house,  and  the  doctor  commenced  a  march  and  coun- 
ter march  up  and  down  the  room,  while  he  thought  over  the 
events  of  the  past  day. 

After  a  while  a  door  opened  softly,  and  Anna's  face  ap- 
peared. 

"  May  I  come  in  now  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Why,  child,  are  you  up  yet  ?  I  thought  you  were  in 
bed  long  ago." 

"  You  told  me  to  go  and  stay  with  Biddy.  Where  is 
Mich  ?  Has  he  gone  ?" 

"Mich  gone!  why,  yes,  long  ago;  and  it's  time  you  were, 
too.  So  come  and  kiss  me,  good  night." 

Anna  did  as  she  was  desired,  and  then  retired  quietly  to 


21(5       OLD     HATJN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

her  own  room ;  and  long  after  her  head  had  sought  its  pillow 
she  listened  to  the  regular  tramp  of  the  doctor,  as  he  paced 
to  and  fro  in  the  adjoining  room,  meditating  upon  the  past, 
and  resolving  upon  the  future. 


MYSTERIOUS     DISAPPEARANCE.         217 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  MYSTERIOUS  DISAPPEARANCE. 

HAUN'S  letter  to  Cornell,  with  the  threat  conveyed  in  the 
same,  had  a  greater  and  more  immediate  effect  than  had 
been  perhaps,  even  hoped  for  by  the  writer.  It  found  Cor- 
nell, as  usual,  wholly  given  up  to  his  own  pleasures  and 
amusements,  and  rioting  in  dissipation.  But  it  arrested  him 
midway  in  his  giddy  routine.  A  shadow  fell  upon  his  spirits. 
He  withdrew  for  a  while  from  his  gay  associates,  to  meditate 
upon  the  course  to  be  taken.  He  stood  in  fear  of  Haun, 
who  with  his  iron  nerve  and  invincible  determination,  had 
exercised  tacitly,  but  with  certainty  that  control  over  him, 
which  a  strong  will  always  obtains  over  a  weaker  one. 
While  distance  separated  him,  this  feeling  was  subdued,  but, 
with  the  prospect  of  meeting  Haun  again,  the  repugnance 
and  dread  revived.  Guilt  had  made  him  timid,  and  instead 
of  being  able  to  meet  his  coadjutor  in  his  usual  brusque  and 
fearless  manner,  he  dreaded  the  encounter  and  shrank  from 
it.  He  did  not  doubt  the  truth  of  Haun's  assertion  and 
therefore  felt  himself  in  his  power. 
He  resolved  to  answer  the  letter,  and  retrieve  his  error  as 
10 


218      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

far  as  possible,  by  an  offer  of  prompt  amends  and  a  full 
compliance  with  the  demands  of  Haun.  He  hoped  by  this 
means  to  conciliate,  and  hoped  that  Haun  would  still  be 
induced  to  keep  faith  with  him.  True,  it  was  not  by  any 
means  so  easy  at  that  time,  as  it  had  been  a  few  months  pre- 
viously to  spare  the  amount  required,  but  now  necessity 
drove,  and  necessity  does  not  consult  men's  convenience. 

He  wrote  offering  to  accede  to  Haun's  demand,  and  des- 
patched the  letter,  he  then  began  to  breathe  more  freely,  and 
the  shadows  were  lifted  from  his  spirits.  But  his  gratifica- 
tion on  disposing  of  the  matter  was  brief,  for  hardly  a  day 
had  elapsed  after  mailing  his  letter,  before  he  received 
another  communication  following  closely  upon  the  other. 
Cornell  opened  it  nervously,  and  read  with  a  sinking 
heart. 

"  NEW  YORK,  JWM  loth,  18— 
"  Mr.  James  Cornell : — 

"  DEAR  SIR  : — Since  sending  my  last,  I  have  reconsidered  the 
matter,  and  withdraw  my  claim  upon  you,  as  I  find  there  is  another  heir 
to  the  estate,  living,  who  will  establish  her  legal  right,  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, and  I  should  not  wish  you  to  appropriate  the  property  of  others 
to  the  payment  of  your  own  debts.  I  have  been  appointed  guardian 
of  Anna  Hervey,  the  legal  heir,  and  as  such,  am  ready  to  receive  all 
monies  and  property  to  which  by  virtue  of  her  heirship  she  is  entitled. 
You  may  retain,  until  I  see  you,  which  I  hope  will  be  soon,  all  papers 
and  title  deeds  relating  to  the  estate.  But,  on  my  arrival,  you  will 
be  prepared  to  deliver  to  me  all  the  property  in  your  possession.  If 
you  do  this  peaceably  and  without  delay,  I  shall  not  insist  upon  youi 
refunding  the  trifling  sum  tha*;  you  may  already  have  used,  but  if  not, 


MYSTERIOUS     DISAPPEARANCE.         219 

then  you  will  oblige  me  to  claim  restitution  of  everything,  and  also 
to  pursue  such  other  remedy  as  the  law  may  provide.     I  shall  wait  to 

hear  from  you. 

"Yours,  etc., 

"CARLOS  HAUN." 

Having  finished  reading  the  letter,  Cornell  laid  it  down 
in  silence — at  a  loss  what  course  to  take — he  saw  it  was  too 
late  now  to  retrace  his  steps — he  saw  disgrace  before  him. 
He  heard  the  sneers  of  his  acquaintances — the  affected  sym- 
pathy of  his  friends — the  averted  looks  and  desertion  of  his 
dissolute  companions,  when  he  could  no  longer  minister  to 
their  enjoyments — and  himself,  as  a  pauper,  turned  into  the 
street,  homeless,  friendless,  despised,  deserted.  He  looked 
into  the  future,  and  saw  himself  as  in  a  glass.  Life  became 
a  burthen.  Sleeping  or  waking,  the  cadaverous  visage — 
elfin  locks,  and  piercing  eyes  of  Haun  were  before  him.  He 
grew  morose  and  dispirited,  but  finally,  with  the  recklessness 
of  despair,  determined  to  enjoy  the  present  as  long  as  he 
could,  and  await  the  issue.  He  plunged  anew  into  dissipa- 
tion, and  defied  Haun's  warnings  and  his  threats. 

In  the  meantime,  Haun  in  New  York,  was  impatiently 
awaiting  an  answer  to  his  last  communication.  But  none 
came,  in  this  he  was  disappointed.  He  had  relied  with 
much  confidence  upon  the  effect  of  his  letter,  and  intended 
to  avail  himself  of  every  advantage.  But  the  matter  had 
been  pushed  farther  than  intended — the  effect  upon  Cornell 
was  different  from  that  anticipated.  It  was  Haun's  design 
to  frighten  Cornell  into  an  immediate  payment  of  the  bond, 


220      OLD     HAUN,     'iHE     PAWNBKOKER. 

or  perhaps  to  coerce  him  into  disgorging  a  large  share,  and 
he  thought  Cornell  in  his  anxiety  would  have  replied  at 
once,  offering  to  compromise  on  almost  any  terms.  But  he 
did  not  thoroughly  understand  Cornell's  disposition  or  tem- 
per, nor  imagine  that  driven  to  despair,  he  had  become 
reckless  and  indifferent  to  the  result. 

It  is  uncertain  whether  Haun  had  at  this  time  really  con- 
ceived the  definite  idea  of  going  to  New  Orleans,  and  of  leav- 
ing his  business  unattended  to,  or  whether,  although  the 
idea  had  been  flitting  through  his  scheming  brain,  he  had 
not  suddenly  seized  the  determination  of  carrying  out  in  full, 
the  intentions  and  threats  expressed  in  his  letter  to  Cornell. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  on  Mich's  making  his  next  visit  to  his 
worthy  patron,  Haun  said  to  him,  carelessly,  "  By  the  bye,  I 
wonder  if  that  southern  mail  is  in  yet.  I'm  expecting  a 
letter — run,  Mich,  and  see  if  there's  one  for  me.  Come  ! 
you  must  begin  to  make  yourself  useful."  Although  surprised 
at  the  request,  Mich  did  not  hesitate,  but  hastened  to 
the  post  office  and  returned  with  a  letter.  Before  delivering 
it  he  noted  in  his  memory  the  post  mark — it  was  from  New 
Orleans,  and  was  the  same  letter  written  by  Cornell  in 
answer  to  the  first  of  Haun's  of  May  the  I5th — and  which 
had  been  by  some  means  delayed  until  now.  Mich  deliver- 
ed the  letter  to  Haun,  and  closely  watched  him  as  he  read 
to  himself  and  commented  aloud.  "I  thought  it  would 
bring  him  to  his  senses,"  he  continued,  "  but  his  offer  comes 
too  late — wants  me  to  t  ike  the  husk  and  give  him  the  grain. 
I've  worked  too  hard  for  that.  Supposing  I  were  really  to 


MYSTERIOUS     DISAPPEARANCE.          221 

go  down  there,"  he  said  meditatively,  "  I  will — I'll  do  it,  as 
soon  as  I  can  arrange  that  other  matter.  I'd  go  to-morrow 
if  I  could.  What  are  you  staring  at  ?"  he  exclaimed,  look- 
ing up  suddenly  at  Mich,  who  unconsciously  stood  with 
open  mouth,  in  his  anxiety  to  catch  every  word  uttered  by 
Haun,  and  forgetting,  for  a  moment,  the  necessity  for  dis- 
simulation in  the  part  he  was  playing. 

"  I  say,  what  are  you  staring  at  ?  Can't  I  read  a  love 
letter  without  being  looked  out  of  countenance  ?" 

Mich's  fixed  and  eager  expression  instantly  vanished, 
and  he  answered,  carelessly  :  "  Perhaps  ye're  afraid  I'll 
read  yer  letther  from  lookiu'  at  the  outside  ;  I've  niver 
learned  that  yet." 

"Well,  then,  don't  stand  there  gaping  at  me  ;  but -it's 
about  time  for  you  to  begin  to  do  something,  as  you  agreed; 
now,  you'd  better  be  lively,  or  you  won't  earn  that  money. 
When  are  you  going  to  bring  that  girl  to  me,  eh  ?" 

Mich  stood  for  a  moment  undecided,  and  then  answered  : 

"  An'  what  if  she'd  not  go  wid  any  one  but  the  Docthor 
himself?" 

"  Does  she  go  to  walk  with  him  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  she  does." 

"  When  do  they  go  ?" 

"  As  often  as  iver  they  can  ;  the  Docthor  says  the  poor 
crathur  must  have  a  taste  of  the  fresh  air  now  and  thin." 

"  He  does,  eh  ?  quite  right,  no  doubt, ' 

"  Now,  wid  yer  lave,"  said  Mich,  "  I'l  go,  and  maybe  I'll 
find  out  something  that'll  plase  ye." 


222      OLD     HA.  TIN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Well,  see  that  you  do,  or  our  reckoning  '11  be  a  short 
one,"  Haun  replied. 

Mich  did  not  stop  to  hear  anything  farther,  but  went 
directly  to  the  office  of  Doctor  Foster,  and  communicated 
to  him  all  that  occurred  at  his  last  interview.  The  Doctor 
was  now  really  alarmed  for  the  safety  of  his  adopted  child. 
From  what  he  had  learned  of  the  receipt  of  the  letter  by 
Haun,  its  source,  and  the  latter's  expressions  in  reading  it, 
he  felt  sure  that  the  crisis  was  approaching.  It  seemed  to 
him,  that  there  must  be  some  great  incentive  operating 
upon  her  uncle,  besides  the  mere  influence  of  affection,  to 
induce  him  so  ardently  to  seek  possession  of  the  person  of 
his  niece. 

After  a  moment's  reflection,  the  doctor  said  :  "  Well, 
Mich,  something  must  be  done  at  once.  It's  now  time  to 
act.  I  must  get  advice  about  this.  I'm  sorry  you  told  him 
about  our  going  out  to  walk,  as  he  might  lie  in  wait  for  us; 
but,  pshaw  I  he'd  never  dare  to  attempt  taking  her  away 
from  me  by  force.  But  I  can't  stop  to  talk  now,  Mich.  I'll 
go  and  see  Pierce  ;  he's  an  old  friend  and  a  pretty  shrewd 
lawyer  too  ;  he'll  understand  at  once,  what's  best  to  be 
done."  So  saying,  the  doctor  left  and  went  directly  to  con- 
sult with  Mr.  Pierce,  an  attorney,  with  whom  he  had  long 
been  on  terms  of  intimacy,  and  who,  in  those  days,  took  a 
rank  among  the  first  lawyers  of  the  city.  Mr.  Pierce  re- 
ceived him  very  cordially,  and  listened  with  marked  atten- 
tion to  the  doctor's  relation  of  the  particulars  of  the  affair, 
and  on  his  concluding,  remarked,  interrogatively: 


MYSTERIOUS     DISAPPEAEANCE.          223 

"  You  fear,  then,  doctor,  that  the  child  will  be  taken 
from  you  ?" 

"  The  old  villain  says  he  is  going  to  get  her,  any  way." 

"  Who  is  this  boy,  Mich  ?  perhaps  he  deceives  you  instead 
of  the  other  party." 

"  No,  Mich  is  reliable." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  this  uncle  is  living  hi  New 
Orleans  ?" 

"  I  have  no  positive  knowledge  any  further  than  I  have 
mentioned.  I  might  write  to  him  and  by  that  means  learn 
something  further.  Had  I  better  ?" 

"  No,  that  might  spoil  all.  I  believe,  from  what  you  say, 
that  there  is  something  mysterious  in  the  matter;  it  may  be 
all  right,  and  it  may  be  not.  If  you  wish  it,  I  will  find  out 
what  it  means." 

Well,  Pierce,  go  on  and  rid  me  of  this  Haun's  interfer- 
ence. Sift  the  matter  thoroughly.  If  you  could  manage 
to  get  Haun  in  the  States'  Prison,  so  much  the  better.  Now, 
what  have  I  to  do  ?" 

"  Nothing  at  all,  only  to  keep  quiet,  and  watch  carefully 
the  child,  so  as  to  ward  off  any  attempt  he  might  make 
to  get  her,  while  I  write  to  a  lawyer  in  New  Orleans.  Now, 
give  me  the  names  of  all  the  parties,"  said  Mr.  Pierce, 
taking  pen  and  paper. 

"  Well,  whose  first  ?" 

"  Begin  with  the  uncle." 

"  His  name  was  William  Leonard." 

"  What  occupation  ?" 


224:      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBKOKEB. 

"  He  was  a  captain  of  a  vessel,  and  sailed  from  the  port 
of  Boston  the  last  time  anything  was  heard  of  him." 

"  Good,  so  far.  I  will  write  and  have  inquiries  made  for 
a  person  bearing  the  name  of  William  Leonard,  formerly  a 
sea-faring  man,  and  request  an  answer  at  once,  and  also 
desire  the  agent,  whom  I  shall  employ  for  the  purpose,  to 
proceed  cautiously  and  expeditiously." 

"  But  shall  I  leave  Haun  unmolested  ?  Hadn't  I  better 
have  the  old  villain  arrested  ?" 

"  For  what  offence  ?  He  ought,  without  doubt,  to  be 
indicted  upon  general  principles,  but  our  law  is  unfortu- 
nately so  defective,  that  it  will  not  arrest  except  upon 
some  well-grounded  charge." 

"  But  I  am  afraid  he  will  try  to  steal  her.  I  cannot  wait 
until  you  hear  from  New  Orleans.  I'd  like  to  take  the  law 
into  my  own  hands;  I'd  give  him  what  he's  never  had  yet — 
justice." 

"  Don't  be  impatient,  doctor  ;  I  can't  believe  there's  any 
such  great  urgency  in  the  case.  For  this  Haun  is  altogether 
too  cunning  to  overdrive  the  matter,  or  to  let  you  catch  him 
in  his  tricks.  He  has  done  nothing,  that  I  am  aware  of, 
to  bring  him  within  reach  of  the  law  ;  and,  of  course,  you 
will  be  on  your  guard  to  check  any  unlawful  attempt  on  his 
part,"  answered  the  attorney. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  go  home  ;  but  I  shall  not  be  able  to 

rest  so  long  as   he  remains   at  liberty,"    the   doctor  re- 
plied. 

"  By  the  way,  doctor,  before  you  leave,  the  names  of  the 


MYSTERIOUS     DISAPPEARANCE.  225 

other  parties,  I  might  as  well  write  them  down  now,  while 
we  are  on  the  subject,"  said  Mr.  Pierce,  detaining  him. 

The  doctor  stopped  to  give  the  names,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded at  a  brisk  pace  home,  determined  that  Anna  should 
not,  for  another  day,  be  left  exposed  to  the  risk  of  suffering 
from  Haun's  machinations.  He  would  take  her  into  the 
country,  and  leave  her  with  a  friend,  until  the  matter  was  in 
some  way  definitely  disposed  of,  so  that  they  might  all  of 
them  be  relieved  from  the  dread  of  some  impending  evil,  but 
what,  they  knew  not.  It  would  do  her  good.  It  would 
bring  the  roses  back  to  her  pale  cheeks  to  run  about  in  the 
green  fields,  and  breathe  the  pure  air  of  the  country.  So 
reasoned  the  doctor,  and  decided  in  his  own  mind  that  she 
should  go  at  once.  She  should  start  to-morrow,  and  nobody 
but  himself  should  know  her  destination.  With  his  thoughts 
intent  upon  this  subject,  he  entered  his  house  and  went 
directly  to  the  sitting-room.  There  was  no  one  there.  He 
passed  through  to  the  adjoining  room  and  called,  but  re- 
ceived no  answer.  He  decended  into  the  kitchen,  it  was 
vacant.  He  called  again,  but  in  vain,  all  was  silent.  The 
outer  doors  were  closed,  and  he  thought,  possibly,  Anna 
might  have  retired  for  the  night.  He  opened  the  door  of 
her  sleeping-room,  and  said  : 

"  Anna  gone  to  bed  ?  asleep  already  ?"  He  approached 
the  bed,  listening  for  her  breathing,  but  no  sound  met  his 
ear,  all  was  hushed.  His  heart  sank,  he  caught  a  lamp 
from  the  mantel  and  returned  to  Anna's  room — the  bed  was 
unruffled.  There  was  no  one  there — a  cold  sweat  started  out 

10* 


226      OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBBOKEB. 

on  his  forehead  as  he  cast  his  eyes  around,  and  exclaimed  : 
"  Where  have  they  gone  ?  this  is  strange,  nine  o'clock  and 
they  out,  what  can  it  mean?  Biddy  knows  better,  and 
besides,  I  told  her  not  to  be  out  with  Anna.  I'll  fix  her — 
but  they  must  be  along  soon."  The  doctor  sat  down  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  then  got  up,  and  shading  his  eyes  with  his 
hand,  tried  to  pierce  the  darkness  beyond,  as  he  gazed  out 
of  the  window.  He  turned  away,  and  sat  down  again  with 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  clock,  that  ticked  unconsciously  upon 
the  mantel.  The  hand  was  moving  on  towards  the  hour  of 
ten.  He  rose  again  and  went  to  the  door  and  looked  up 
and  down  the  street,  and  then  seizing  his  hat  exclaimed  : 

"There's  something  happened  to  them  or  they'd  never 
stay  out  till  this  hour.  I'll  see  Mich,  perhaps  he'll  know," 
and  so  saying,  he  hurried  into  the  street.  The  distance  to 
the  abode  of  Mich  was  considerable,  but  it  seemed  now  to 
the  doctor  in  his  impatience  almost  interminable.  And  even 
after  reaching  the  house,  it  was  some  time  before  he  succeed- 
ed in  arousing  any  one — for  Mich  was  just  dreaming  his  first 
dream.  But  what  was  his  astonishment  and  alarm  on  learn- 
ing who  was  the  visitor,  and  what  had  brought  him  there  at 
that  hour — and  at  hearing  the  doctor's  hurried  question. 
"  Mich,  have  you  seen  Anna  and  Biddy  ?" 

"  Seen  thim  1  are  they  gone  ?" 

"  I  can't  find  them,  they're  not  at  home." 

"  He's  done  it  thin,  the  ould  Satan's  done  it — and  ye'll 
niver  see  her  again — och  hone,  why  didn't  I  watch  him  ?" 

"  Dress  yourself,  Mich  and  follow  me,"  said  the  doctor. 


MYSTERIOUS     D I S A P P E A K A N 0 E . 

Mich  was  soon  ready  and  inquired,  "  what'll  I  do  ?" 

"  Come  with  me." 

Mich  followed  in  silence  the  long  and  rapid  strides  of  the 
doctor,  as  he  harried  away  to  the  police  station  for  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  a  description  of  the  missing  persons,  and  of 
directing  an  immediate  search.  He  offered  a  large  reward 
to  the  one  that  should  discover  them  that  night.  The 
police  were  immediately  on  the  alert,  and  those  who  happen- 
ed then  to  be  there,  dispersed  at  once  in  different  directions 
on  their  search,  returning  now  and  then  to  confer  with  each 
other,  or  to  obtain  further  information,  or  directions.  The 
night  wore  on,  and  still  nothing  could  be  learned.  The 
doctor  remained  as  long  as  there  was  a  possibility  of  obtain- 
ing a  knowledge  of  them,  and  then  unwillingly  and  sadly 
took  his  way  home.  He  entered,  and  the  noise  of  the  closing 
door  echoed  through  the  now  deserted  house,  and  sent  a 
pang  to  his  heart.  The  solitary  light  still  flickered  as  he 
had  left  it — none  had  entered  since.  He  sank  into  a  chair 
and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  The  bright  gleam  of  sun- 
shine that  had  for  a  brief  time  lifted  the  shadows  from  his 
solitary  life,  had  faded,  and  it  was  again  darkened.  The 
night  wore  on,  and  still  he  sat — the  clicking  of  the  clock 
alone  disturbing  the  monotonous  stillness  that  reigned 
within — while  without,  some  unusual  noise  would  cause 
the  watcher  to  start  up  and  listen  intently  as  if  expect- 
ing, or  at  least  hoping,  that  some  tidings  might  still  be 
brought  him — but  in  vain.  The  morning  dawned,  and  then, 
the  doctor  rose,  and  throwing  himself  upon  his  bed,  exhaust- 


228       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

ed  nature  could  no  longer  resist,  and  he  sank  into  a  disturb- 
ed and  fitful  slumber.  The  morning  was  well  advanced  be- 
fore he  awoke,  so  worn  out  was  he  with  the  mental  struggle. 
Starting  up,  the  occurrences  of  the  past  few  hours  came 
back  to  his  mind.  Without  stopping  for  refreshment,  he  seized 
his  hat,  and  with  rapid  steps  resought  the  office  of  his  inti- 
mate friend,  the  attorney,  whom  he  fortunately  found  disen- 
gaged. The  latter  saw  at  once  from  the  haggard  and  care- 
worn look  of  his  client,  that  something  unusual  had  occurred. 
He  therefore  advanced  at  once  to  meet  the  doctor  as  he 
entered,  and  taking  him  by  the  hand  said  : 

"  Well,  doctor,  I  hope  nothing  unpleasant  has  occurred 
to  oblige  you  to  seek  my  services  this  morning  ?" 

"  Yes,  what  I  feared,  and  ought  to  have  guarded 
against,  has  happened — the  child  is  gone,"  the  doctor 
answered,  with  choked  utterance. 

"  You  can't  mean  that  that  fellow,  what's  his  name,  has 
dared  to — to " 

"  Steal  her,  there's  no  doubt  of  it." 

"  When  did  you  miss  her  ?" 

"  Last  evening  when  I  went  home,  both  she  and  my  ser- 
vant were  away.  I  was  not  particularly  alarmed  until  it 
grew  late  in  the  evening,  and  then  I  began  to  fear.  I  gave 
notice  at  the  station-house,  but  the  police  have  found  out 
nothing  as  yet." 

"  Have  you  no  clue  ?  nothing  to  show  where  or  when  they 
left  ?" 

"  Nothing  at  all.     I  know  nothing  more  than  I  have 


MY8TEEIOU8     DISAPPEARANCE.       229 

already  related.  Suspecting  that  villain  Haun,  I  had  the 
police  watch  his  shop  last  night.  The  shop  was  closed  and 
he  was  not  there,  neither  has  he  returned  to  it  since  then, 
but  I  am  sure  he  has  not  yet  left  the  city." 

"  Strange  I"  ejaculated  the  attorney. 

"  And  now,"  continued  the  doctor,  "  if  there  is  any  law 
that  can  help  me  in  this  emergency,  let  me  know  it,  for  I 
shall  not  rest  till  I  have  found  the  child." 

"  I  think  you  said  you  had  been  legally  appointed  guar- 
dian, did  you  not,  doctor  ?" 

"  Certainly." 

"And  she  has  lived  in  your  family,  and  you  have  supplied 
her  with  clothing,  is  not  that  so  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  the  doctor  answered,  impatiently. 

"  How  old  is  she  ?" 

"  As  nearly  as  I  can  recollect — ten  years  old." 

"  My  advice  to  you  then  is  this — of  course,  the  first  and 
most  important  thing,  is  to  get  possession  of  the  child — to 
accomplish  this,  we  must  make  application  and  obtain  a  writ 
of  habeas  corpus,  and  put  it  into  the  hands  of  the  sheriff  to 
serve,  which  will  if  he  can  find  her,  give  you  at  any  rate  the 
temporary  custody  of  her.  In  the  second  place  as  we  want 
to  punish  this  man,  Haun — and  proceeding  upon  the  sup- 
position that  he  has  taken  her,  I  should  advise  you,  under 
the  present  state  of  our  law,  to  go  before  a  magistrate  and 
make  affidavit  of  the  larceny  of  the  clothes  which  the  child 
had  on  when  she  was  taken,  and  which  were  and  are  your 
property,  by  this  means  we  will  obtain  a  warrant  against 


230      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

his  body  at  once,  and  then  if  we  can  only  get  hold  of  him 
we'll  take  further  steps  for  his  punishment.  Rely  upon  my 
assistance,  doctor,  until  the  whole  matter  is  disposed  of.  It 
is  near  twelve  o'clock  already.  It'll  take  us  a  couple  of 
hours,  perhaps,  to  get  the  writ  and  put  it  in  the  hands  of  the 
officer  for  service.  By  the  by,  doctor,  supposing  the  fellow 
has  really  kidnapped  the  child,  where  do  you  imagine  he 
would  take  her  to  ?  I  think  you  mentioned  the  other 
day." 

"  To  New  Orleans  I  have  reason  to  believe." 

But,  supposing  him  to  have  an  object  in  getting  possession 
of  the  child,  why  should  he  want  the  servant  ?  you  said  she 
had  disappeared  also." 

"  Yes  !  she?s  not  to  be  found,  but  I  can't  imagine  what 
he  could  want  of  her." 

"  It's  possible  after  all,  doctor,  that " 

"  That  what  ?" 

"  You  haven't  been  at  your  house  since  you  left  it  this 
morning,  have  you  ?"  . 

"  No,  but  I  am  satisfied  that  she's  been  detained  by  force, 
or  she  would  have  been  home  last  evening." 

"  Has  the  servant  no  friends  or  relations  in  the  city  that 
she's  in  the  habit  of  visiting,  and  with  whom  she  might  have 
stayed  over  night  ?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of." 

"  "Well,  then,  doctor,  I  would  suggest  as  a  mere  measure 
of  precaution,  that  while  I  am  preparing  the  necessary 
papers,  you  step  down  to  the  office  and  inquire  when  a  boat 


MYSTERIOUS     DISAPPEARANCE.        231 

will  leave  for  the  South,  and  it  might  be  well  on  your  return 
to  call  again  at  your  house  and  find  whether  anything  new 
has  turned  up  during  the  morning,  then  come  back  and  I'll 
be  at  your  service." 

"  Right !  I'll  do  it,"  said  the  doctor,  leaving.  He  went 
to  the  office  for  the  purpose  of  learning  the  hour  of  departure 
of  the  boat,  and  found  there  would  be  one  on  that  very 
evening.  He  then  returned,  calling  at  his  own  house  on  the 
way — as  he  approached  some  person  seemed  to  him  to  be 
sitting  on  the  step.  He  looked  again — could  he  be  mistaken 
— he  came  nearer — it  was  Biddy  who  sat  leaning  her  head 
upon  her  hand,  unconscious  of  the  approach  of  any  one  till 
the  doctor  addressed  her. 

"  Biddy  is  that  you  ?  where  is  Anna  ?" 

"  Och  1  docthor,  I'm  kilt  intirely,"  she  exclaimed,  start- 
ing up,  "  me  head's  split  open,  and  ivery  bone  in  me  body's 
broken.  Och,  docthor,  I'm  afraid  he's  got  her,  but  its  not 
me  fault,  docthor." 

"  Who  and  where,  speak  quick  ?"  the  doctor  exclaimed, 
seizing  her  by  the  arm. 

"  The  ould  one  that  came  to  see  her — when  ye  were  so 
angry  about  it.  He  met  us  in  the  strate,  and  knocked  me 
down  and  sazed  her,  and  I  don't  know  anything  more  afther 
that,"  Bridget  answered,  sobbing. 

"What  I  was  afraid  of,  and  where  have  you  been  all  of 
this  time  ?" 

"It's  hard  tillin',  sir.  I  was  taken  up  clean  out  o'  me 
sinses  till  this  mornin',  wid  this  blow  on  the  side  o'  my  head, 


232      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

and  I'm  jist  able  to  get  home  ;  och  !  but  I'm  afraid  the  dear 
child's  gone  intirely — but  it's  not  me  fault,  docthor." 

"  Well  1  I'll  help  you  into  the  house,  and  then  I  must  go, 
we'll  have  him  yet,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  assisted  Biddy 
into  the  house,  and  made  a  slight  examination  of  her  wounds, 
which  he  found  not  to  be  of  a  dangerous  character.  Having 
done  this,  he  departed  for  the  office  of  the  attorney.  He 
found  him  temporarily  absent,  but  as  he  was  momentarily 
expected,  the  doctor  paced  uneasily  up  and  down  the  room, 
until  his  arrival — Mr.  Pierce  entered,  saying,  "  Well,  doctor, 
any  tidings  ?" 

"  No,  except  that  my  suspicions  are  confirmed.  She  is 
in  the  hands  of  that  infernal  villain.  On  going  to  my  house, 
I  found  my  servant  sitting  on  the  steps,  and  somewhat 
seriously  injured  by  a  blow  on  the  head.  From  her  I  learn 
that  as  she  was  out  walking  in  the  city  last  evening  with 
Anna,  she  was  knocked  down  so  suddenly  that  she  was 
unable  to  observe  from  whom  the  blow  came,  and  was  left 
insensible.  She  was  picked  up  and  taken  care  of  by  some 
one  till  this  morning,  when  she  was  partially  restored,  suffi- 
ciently to  walk  home.  She  can  give  no  farther  particu- 
lars." 

"  It  is  so  then  ;  but  the  day  of  reckoning  will  come.  Now 
I  have  everything  in  readiness.  The  sheriff  himself  '11  be 
ready  to  go  in  a  short  tune.  He  wanted  to  send  one  of  his 
deputies,  but  I  declined  his  aid  at  once — there  must  be  no 
bungling  of  this  matter.  Now  you  go  and  take  some  refresh- 
ments, and  on  your  return  we  will  be  ready." 


MYSTERIOUS     DISAPPEARANCE.         233 

"  No,  I  need  nothing,  I  can't  eat  until  she's  found." 

"  But  you  absolutely  must,  doctor  ;  you  look  as  haggard 
as  if  you  had  been  engaged  in  this  affair  a  week  instead  of  a 
day.  and  as  it  may  so  happen  that  we  shall  require  all  the 
strength  that  we  can  muster,  I  need  not  advise  you  of  the 
necessity  of  fortifying  the  body  with  proper  nourishment." 

"  Well,  I  will  go,  since  I  can  do  nothing  further  here 
for  the  present." 

He  was  absent  about  a  half  an  hour,  and  then  returning 
met  the  attorney,  and  going  together  to  the  sheriff's  office, 
found  that  functionary  armed  with  the  necessary  legal 
authority  to  reclaim  the  child,  and  to  arrest  Haun,  and  im- 
patiently awaiting  their  arrival. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  he  remarked,  as  they  entered,  "  we 
must  proceed  in  this  matter  cautiously  and  expeditiously.  I 
understand  from  you  that  he  has  not  yet  probably  left  the 
city.  Has  he  a  dwelling  house  here  ?" 

"  None  other  than  his  place  of  business  or  shop  on 
Chatham  street,"  the  attorney  replied. 

"  Has  that  been  searched  ?" 

"  No,  we  had  no  authority  to  break  the  doors  which  are 

barred  and  locked,  but  I  understand  from  my  friend  the 

doctor  here — that  the  premises  have  been  closely  watched, 

so  that  it  is  certain  there  has  been  neither  ingress  or 

,       gress." 

"  Would  he  probably  remain  there  concealed  ?" 

"  I  think  not,  he's  too  cunning  for  that." 

"  Very  likely  I  still  it  would  be  unwise  to  leave  it  un- 


234:       OLD     HATTN,     THE      PAWNBROKER. 

searched.  So  we'll  go  there  first  and  demand  admittance, 
and  if  necessary  force  an  entrance." 

"  Well,  let  us  go  then  at  once,"  said  the  doctor,  who  had 
been  uneasily  waiting  for  the  termination  of  the  conference. 

"  Come  on,  then,"  the  sheriff  replied. 

They  then  went  directly  to  Haun's  shop,  which  was  at  no 
great  distance  off,  and  found  it  carefully  closed.  They 
called  out  for  admittance  but  received  no  answer.  The 
sheriff  then  ordered  the  door  to  be  forced.  This  was  a  work 
of  some  difficulty,  for  it  was  strongly  barred  and  bolted,  but 
on  the  application  of  their  united  strength,  the  fastenings 
gave  way  and  an  entrance  was  affected.  The  shop  was 
vacant.  Vigilant  search  was  made  throughout  the  premises, 
but  neither  man  nor  child  was  found.  Everything  else  wore 
its  accustomed  appearance.  Goods  of  every  description 
were  scattered  promiscuously  about,  but,  upon  close  examina- 
tion, it  was  found  that  books,  memorandums,  bills,  and 
money,  and  other  smaller  articles  of  intrinsic  value,  had  been 
removed — as  soon  as  this  was  found  to  be  the  case,  the  doc- 
tor exclaimed  : 

"  He's  off,  and  we  must  follow  at  once  or  be  too  late." 

"  Where  does  the  boat  lie  ?"  inquired  the  sheriff. 

"  I  don't  exactly  know  the  street,  but  we'll  follow  the 
dock  around,  and  easily  find  it." 

"  Keep  up  good  heart,  then,  doctor,  we'll  find  her  if  she's 
in  the  city." 

Away  they  went,  passing  vessel  after  vessel,  in  their  round, 
but  unwilling  to  make  inquiries  for  fear  of  exciting  suspi- 


MYSTERIOUS     DISAPPEARANCE.        235 

cion,  and  not  knowing  who  might  be  in-  the  interest  of  the 
fugitive — or  who  might  be  placed  as  a  spy  to  warn 'him  of 
approaching  danger.  As  they  were  hurrying  on,  scrutiniz- 
ing closely  each  craft  that  loomed  up  through  the  darkness, 
the  doctor  felt  a  tug  at  his  coat — turning  quickly,  he  could 
just  recognize  the  form  of  Mich,  who  stood  panting  for 
breath.  He  pointed  with  his  finger  to  a  boat  that  lay  a 
ehort  distance  from  them,  and  articulated  with  difficulty. 

"  They're  there." 

"  Nonsense,  boy,  that  can't  be — that  an't  the  southern 
boat,"  said  the  officer. 

"  I've  seen  them  wid  me  own  eyes,"  said  Mich,  earnestly, 
"  they're  there." 

"  Come  along,  then,  and  show  us,"  said  the  doctor. 

They  at  once  proceeded  to  the  boat  indicated  by  Mich, 
and  were  about  to  rush  on  board  when  one  of  the  boat's 
crew,  whom  they  had  not  before  perceived,  approached,  and 
standing  before  them  so  as  to  obstruct  their  farther  progress, 
said  gruffly: 

"  What  do  you  want  here  ?  be  off,"  at  the  same  time  lay- 
ing his  hand  upon  the  doctor's  shoulder,  and  pushing  him 
back. 

"  Hands  off — you  rascal,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  as  he 
shoved  the  man  vigorously  aside,  and  rushed  past  him.  The 
man  was  about  to  return  the  favor  with  a  blow,  when  the 
sheriff  said  quickly  : 

"  Hold,  there,  my  friend,  not  too  fast,  I'm  the  sheriff." 
The  man's  hand  dropped  and  he  asked  : 


236      OLD     HA  UN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  then  ?" 

"  There's  a  man  and  child  secreted  here,  and  we  have 
come  to  search  for  them — they  must  be  delivered  up." 

"  I  knows  nothing  about  any  one  but  the  boat's  crew,  and 
they're  below." 

"  Then  show  us  the  way." 

"D — n  my  eyes  if  I  do  ;  I  takes  my  orders  from  the 
mate." 

"  Come  on,  then,  doctor,  we'll  find  them  first  and  settle 
with  this  gentleman  afterwards,"  remarked  the  sheriff,  going 
towards  the  hatchway.  But  the  sound  of  voices  had  called 
up  the  mate,  who,  discerning  the  forms  of  the  three  intruders, 
demanded  : 

"  What's  in  the  wind,  Ben  ?" 

"  Why,  here's  some  one  as  says  we've  stowed  away  a  man 
and  a  child  in  the  hold  and  he  wants  'em." 

"  You're  boarding  the  wrong  craft — there  an't  no  such 
freight  aboard." 

"  Very  likely,  but  they  may  be  here  without  your  know- 
ing it." 

"  Who  is  it  then  ?" 

"  We're  looking  for  an  old  man  and  a  child,  and  they 
were  seen  to  come  on  to  this  boat,"  the  sheriff  answered, 
"  and  we  want  to  look  for  them." 

"  Ben,  I'll  take  your  watch  while  you  go  with  them  and 
let  them  look." 

"I  say  they  an't  here — I  haven't  left  since  my  watch 
began,  and  they  couldn't  have  passed  me." 


MYSTERIOUS      DISAPPEARANCE.       237 

"Well  !  we'll  look  for  ourselves,"  the  sheriff  answered, 
as  they  commenced  decending  into  the  lower  part  of  the 
vessel — and  Mich  advanced  with  the  intention  of  following 
and  assisting  in  the  search,  when  his  arm  was  rudely  seized 
by  the  man  called  Ben.  "  .You  an't  the  sheriff,  any  way,  so 
avast  there." 

"Let  him  alone,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  authoritatively, 
turning  as  he  heard  the  remark,  "  he  saw  them  come  on 
board,  and  we'll  soon  have  them  if  they're  here.  Come  on, 
Mich."  Descending,  they  at  once  commenced  their  search, 
examining  thoroughly  every  corner  of  the  vessel  from  stem 
to  stern.  Looking  under  berths,  beds,  lounges,  tables,  and 
every  other  thing  that*  could  by  any  possibility  afford  con- 
cealment to  a  living  thing — turning  over  old  rubbish,  boat 
stores,  piles  of  rope,  heaps  of  canvas,  searching  through 
cabin,  hold,  and  store-room,  but  in  vain,  nothing  was  found, 
and  they  turned  sorrowfully  away  from  their  task,  and  sat 
down  for  a  moment  to  wipe  the  perspiration  from  their 
foreheads,  and  consult  as  to  the  next  step  to  be  taken. 

The  man,  Ben,  had  officiously  assisted  them  in  their  search, 
notwithstanding  his  first  opposition,  and  apparent  incredulity, 
and  had  remained  close  to  them,  endeavoring  as  far  as  pos- 
sible without  exciting  suspicion,  to  direct  their  course. 

He  remarked  as  they  seated  themselves,  while  a  look  of 
malicious  gratification  flashed  over  his  features  : 

"  Mabee  you'll  believe  what  I  tells  you  another  time." 

"  No  I  shan't,  any  more  than  I  believe  you  now,"  exclaim- 
ed  the  doctor 


238      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  pipe  all  hands  to  duty  again  ?"  said 
he. 

The  doctor  observed  the  peculiar  expression  of  the  man's 
face,  and  was  satisfied  in  his  own  mind  that  the  fellow  knew 
more  than  he  would  wish  to  disclose — he  communicated  his 
suspicions  to  the  sheriff,  and  the  latter  again  addressed 
Mich,  saying : 

"  Boy,  are  you  sure  you  saw  him  come  on  board  of  this 
boat  r 

"  Indade,  an'  I  am  sure  of  it ;  it's  out  of  that  old  cellar 
on  the  dock  that  I  saw  him  come  about  dusk  this  very  eve- 
ning, and  I  wint  to  find  the  docthor,  but  he  had  gone,  and 
thin  I  came  back  here  again  as  fast  as  iver  I  could,  and  here 
by  good  luck  I  found  ye." 

"  He  may  have  left  since  then,"  the  sheriff  remarked. 

"  Don't  ye  belave  it — he's  here  yet.  I  saw  this  very  man 
spakin'  wid  the  dirthy  ould  villain,"  added  Mich,  as  he  point- 
ed to  Ben. 

"  It's  a,  lie  !"  Ben  yelled  out,  as  he  made  a  blow  with  his 
open  hand  at  the  head  of  Mich,  but  the  latter  avoided  the 
stroke  by  stepping  nimbly  back,  as  he  answered  : 

"  It's  the  truth — the  blissed  truth — and  ye  know  it,  too." 

"  You're  right,  Mich  ;  they're  here,  and  I'm  going  to  find 
them.  Come  along — bring  that  light." 

"  You'll  stay  there,"  said  the  sheriff  to  Ben,  as  he  ad- 
vanced again,  with  the  intention  of  accompanying  them — 
"  not  a  step  nearer." 

Ben  stood  doggedly  looking  after  them,  but  made  no  reply. 


MYSTERIOUS     DISAPPEARANCE.         239 

"  Doctor,  I  don't  believe  there's  any  use  in  looking  again  ; 
ye've  searched  every  spot  where  a  mouse  could  hide  ;  but 
so  long  as  you  remain,  I'm  with  you,"  the  sheriff  remarked. 

They  commenced  again  their  search,  and  as  they  passed 
into  the  different  parts  of  the  vessel,  the  doctor  called  out 
the  name  of  Anna,  and  listened  for  an  answer,  but  in  vain. 
They  began  to  despair.  They  had  gone  through  most  of  the 
vessel,  and  were  preparing  to  abandon  the  search,  and  leave 
the  boat,  when  the  doctor,  as  a  last  experiment,  again  called 
out  loudly  Anna's  name,  A  stifled  cry  seemed  to  reach  his 
ear.  He  shouted  again,  and  listened,  but  all  was  still.  He 
shouted  once  more,  and  again  the  same  subdued  sound  was 
heard.  It  seemed  to  proceed  from  the  store-room,  the  door 
of  which  was  now  closed.  "  She's  there,"  said  Mich,  as  he 
rushed  to  the  door,  but  found  it  locked.  The  others  pressed 
forward  simultaneously,  and  tried  to  open  it,  but  in  vain. 
Without  another  word,  the  doctor  drew  back  and  threw  his 
muscular  frame  with  great  force  against  the  door  :  the  fasten- 
ings gave  way,  and  the  door  crashed  to  the  floor.  As  it 
fell,  a  form  darted  past  them  from  within,  and  the  wiry  locks 
of  Haun  streamed  behind  him  as  he  bounded  past  them 
towards  the  gangway.  The  sheriff  sprang  after  him  as  he 
mounted  the  stairs,  crying,  "  Catch  him  !  Stop  him  1  There 
he  goes  1"  several  of  the  crew  joining  in  the  chase  and  the 
cry ;  but  the  fugitive  had  got  too  much  the  start  before  they 
recovered  from  their  surprise,  and  as  his  pursuers  reached 
the  top  of  the  hatches,  they  saw  him  leap  from  the  boat  on  to 
the  dock,  and  he  was  immediately  lost  in  the  darkness,  so 


240      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

that  further  pursuit  was  impossible.  On  the  opening  of  the 
door  of  the  store-room,  the  doctor  had  immediately  entered, 
calling : 

"  Anna,  Anna — are  you  here  ?" 

He  heard  a  low  sob,  but  the  darkness  prevented  his  dis- 
cerning any  object,  as  the  light  had  been  extinguished  in  the 
excitement  of  the  chase.  He  called  again,  and  groped  about, 
directed  by  the  sound,  till  his  hand  rested  upon  a  pile  of 
canvas,  in  one  corner.  He  felt  it  sway  under  his  touch,  and 
quickly  tearing  away  the  remnant  of  an  old  sail  that  con- 
cealed her,  clasped  Anna  in  his  arms.  He  shouted  for  a 
light,  and  the  sheriff  came  running  in,  exclaiming,  "  Have 
you  found  her  ?  Is  the  girl  here  ?" 

"  Yes  !  A  light,  quick  !     Have  you  caught  him  ?" 

"  No,  he  has  escaped  us  this  time." 

"There,  my  poor  Anna,  can't  you  speak?"  asked  the 
doctor,  noticing  her  silence.  On  passing  his  hand  over  her 
face,  he  found  that  she  had  been  gagged  by  having  a  pocket- 
handkerchief  tightly  tied  over  her  mouth.  Her  hands  were 
also  bound.  The  light  appeared,  and  the  doctor  taking  his 
knife,  quickly  severed  the  fastenings,  while  he  again  hugged 
her  slender  form  tightly  to  himself. 

"  Poor  thing,  poor  thing  ;  are  you  hurt,  child  ?" 

Anna  could  not  answer,  but  putting  her  arm  around  his 
neck,  wept  convulsively.  k 

Mich  now  for  the  first  time  approached,  and  taking  one  of 
her  hands  gently  in  his  own,  whispered,  with  quivering  lip: 
"  Anna,  darlint,  don't  cry,  ye're  safe  now." 


MY  8TEKIOU8   DI8  APPEAEANCE.  24:1 

"  Oh,  Mioh  !"  said  Anna,  still  sobbing. 

"  Thank  God  you're  safe,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  after  he 
nad  sufficiently  controlled  his  emotions  to  be  able  to  articu- 
late. "  How  did  it  happen  ?" 

"  Oh,  Biddy  !  Biddy,"  she  exclaimed,  starting  up. 

"  Be  quiet,  she  is  safe  at  home,"  the  doctor  said. 

"  They  knocked  her  down,  and  I  thought  she  was  killed, 
and  then  they  brought  me.  here." 

"  Where  were  you  ?"  the  doctor  asked. 

"  We  were  almost  at  your  office." 

"  Where  were  you  going  ?" 

"  Didn't  you  send  for  us  ?"  Anna  inquired,  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  Send  for  you  ?  no  !  that  villain  1  it's  his  work.  Couldn't 
you  see  which  way  he  went  ?" 

"  No,"  the  sheriff  answered,  "  but  here  is  something  he 
has  left.  His  coat — we'll  take  possession  of  it.  He  won't 
show  his  face  here  again,  very  soon." 

"  Shall  we  go  now  ?"  inquired  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,  as  soon  as  I  can  get  my  hands  on  that  fellow,  Ben 
— he  seems  to  have  had  as  much  to  do  with  the  matter  as 
any  one,  I  think  I  ought  to  have  him  arrested  also." 

"  Never  mind  him,  we've  got  the  child  and,  perhaps,  he 
may  have  been  imposed  upon,  let  us  rather  exert  all  our 
energies  to  catching  the  other  one,"  the  doctor  answered. 

"  Well,  let's  be  going  then,  it's  not  far  from  morning." 
As  they  neared  the  doctor's  house,  the  sheriff  remarked : 
"  You  don't  want  me  any  longer  ?  I  suppose." 

11 


24r2      OLD     HATTN,     THE     PAWNBKOKEE. 

"  No,  not  to-night,"  was  the  reply,  "but  don't  rest  till 
you  have  huuted  up  that  villain.  Mich,  hadn't  you  better 
go  and  stay  with  me,  the  rest  of  the  night  ?" 

"  No,  docthor,  thank  ye,  I  must  go  home  now,  me  mother 
might  be  wantin'  me  or  feel  concarned  for  me." 

"  Well,  well — all  right,  God  bless  you,  boy.  But  come 
early  in  the  morning,  I  want  to  see  you." 

"  Good  bye,  Anna,  don't  be  throubled  about  it  any  more, 
will  ye  ?"  said  Mich,  as  he  turned  towards  home. 

They  soon  reached  the  house,  and  saw  by  the  light  that 
still  dimly  burned,  that  Biddy  was  keeping  watch  for  them 
— they  had  hardly  reached  the  door  before  it  was  opened, 
and  Biddy  rushed  forward  with  a  cry  of  delight,  to  meet 
them.  She  seized  Anna  from  the  doctor's  arms,  and  covered 
her  face  with  kisses — alternately  weeping  and  laughing,  and 
calling  upon  all  the  saints  to  bless  her — and  invoking  impre- 
cations upon  Haun,  till  the  doctor  interfered,  and  to  give 
time  for  her  transports  of  joy  to  moderate,  desired  her  to 
prepare  the  bed  for  Anna,  which  was  done,  and  the  rescued 
child  was  soon  asleep. 


ARREST     AND     BRIBERY.  24:3 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    ARREST    AND    BRIBERY. 

BY  the  time  the  sheriff  had  concluded  his  examination  of 
the  pawnbroker's  shop,  as  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  quite 
a  crowd,  attracted  by  curiosity,  had  gathered  about  the  door, 
and  were  eagerly  watching  the  proceedings,  and  impatiently 
awaiting  the  issue,  although  ignorant  of  the  object  of  the 
search — for  the  place  was  notorious  not  only  in  the  imme- 
diate neighborhood  but  throughout  the  city,  while  the 
proprietor  had  acquired,  as  is  already  known,  a  reputation 
for  dishonesty  and  double  dealing,  which  was  not  by  any 
means  enviable,  and  which  did  not  cause  his  society  to  be 
courted  by  upright  men. 

The  sheriff,  therefore,  on  concluding  his  reconnoissance  of 
the  apartment,  pulled  the  door  together  after  him  on  leaving, 
without  taking  the  precaution  to  refasten  it — but  clasping 
the  doctor's  arm  within  his  own,  made  his  way  through  the 
crowd  with  all  haste,  towards  the  dock. 

"  I  say,  sheriff,  what's  the  old  devil  been  up  to  ?"  called 
out  some  one  from  the  crowd,  as  the  sheriff  passed. 


244     OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Kidnapping  a  child,"  he  answered,  as  he  hurried  on — 
for  it  was  getting  towards  twilight  and  time  was  precious. 
As  the  officer  disappeared,  some  on  the  outer  verge  of  the 
crowd  began  to  walk  quietly  away,  while  others  remained  con- 
versing in  a  low  tone  among  themselves,  for,  from  some  source 
they  had  learned  the  full  particulars  of  the  pawnbroker's 
offence,  and  as  they  commented  on  it,  the  whole  mass,  from 
some  unaccountable  impulse,  swayed  against  the  door,  which 
readily  gave  way,  precipitating  those  nearest  into  the  shop, 
and  overturning  and  crashing  tables  covered  with  wares 
that  happened  to  stand  near.  In  an  instant  all  was  excite- 
ment and  confusion.  Those  who  had  fallen  upon  the  floor 
recovered  themselves,  while  others  pressed  into  the  room 
after  them — while  those  without  raised  the  cry  of  "  where's 
the  kidnapper  ?  down  with  his  house."  The  cry  was  taken 
up  by  those  inside,  and  "  down  with  his  house,"  shouted  the 
foremost  one,  as  he  swept  a  shelf  with  his  club,  sending  the 
articles  upon  it  jingling  and  crashing  to  the  floor.  "  Down 
with  the  house,"  others  exclaimed,  as  they  tore  up  counters 
and  broke  down  stalls  and  partitions,  "root  him  out," 
shouted  one  after  another,  as  they  seized  the  bundles 
embalmed  in  the  dust  of  years,  and  hurled  them  into  the 
street.  The  work  of  destruction  went  madly  on  till  there 
was  nothing  left  to  destroy.  That  which  had  been  the 
pawnbroker's  shop,  was  completely  sacked  and  demolished, 
and  but  little  more  than  the  bare  walls  remained.  Not  one 
of  those  outside  attempted  to  interfere,  but  looked  silently 
on  as  the  work  progressed — while  the  windows  of  the  neigh- 


ARREST     AND     BRIBERY. 

boring  houses  were  filled  with  anxious  spectators,  who, 
through  the  dim  twilight  could  barely  discern  the  outline  of 
the  crowd,  but  who  could  hear,  with  fearful  distinctness,  the 
shouts  of  the  rioters,  and  the  crash  of  distraction,  as  the 
work  went  on. 

A  cry  was  raised  that  the  police  were  coming,  and  in  a 
moment  the  shop  was  cleared,  and  those  who  had  been  so 
actively  engaged,  mixed  with  the  spectators  and  disappeared. 
The  police  remained  to  prevent  further  violence,  and  the  peo- 
ple quietly  dispersed.  No  arrests  were  made  at  the  time, 
nor  did  any  investigation  follow.  The  act  seemed  to  have 
been  considered  a  public  benefit,  which,  although  the  law 
could  not  openly  countenance,  yet  at  which  it  might  privately 
wink, 

Hauu,  on  the  day  after  his  interview  with  Mich,  concluded 
to  bring  matters  at  once  to  a  crisis,  particularly  as  he  began 
to  feel  impatient  of  delay,  and  was  anxious  and  determined 
to  secure  the  prize  which  in  any  event  was  awaiting  him  at 
New  Orleans.  Therefore,  quickly  conceiving  his  plans,  he 
proposed  to  carry  them  as  quickly  into  execution.  Starting 
off  on  a  moderate  walk,  with  his  hands  thrust  into  his  pock- 
ets, and  his  head  bent  down  as  if  in  deep  study,  he  took 
rather  a  devious  course  till  he  reached  Pearl  street,  along 
which  he  proceeded  some  distance,  until  coming  to  a  low, 
brick  building  of  time-worn  and  dingy  exterior,  he  boldly 
entered,  and  passing  through  a  corridor,  he  came  to  a  door 
which  fronted  him,  at  the  farther  end.  He  approached  it 


2iG      OLD     HA.  UN,     THE     PAWNBKOKEK 

cautiously,  and  stopping,  bent  down  for  a  moment  with  his 
ear  to  the  key-hole:  seeming  to  be  satisfied  with  the  apparent 
security,  he  rapped,  and  immediately,  without  waiting  for  the 
door  to  be  opened,  he  entered. 

The  single  window  which  admitted  the  dim  light  over  the 
towering  walls  of  the  adjoining  buildings,  gave  to  the  room 
an  uncomfortable  and  dismal  look. 

After  standing  a  moment,  in  order  that  his  eyes  might 
gradually  accustom  themselves  to  the  twilight  that  seemed  to 
pervade  the  apartment,  he  looked  around  and  discovered  its 
only  occupant,  who  sat  upon  a  rude  bench,  and  was  industri- 
ously stitching  a  garment.  He  seemed  to  have  already  seen 
some  threescore  years,  and  his  head  was  frosted  with  age. 
He  looked  up  as  Haun  entered,  but  without  speaking,  until 
familiarly  addressed  by  him  : 

"  Well,  old  man,  hard  at  it,  as  usual,  eh  ?" 

"Yes,  it's  always  work,  work,  work,  with  me,  and  the 
more  work  the  less  pay."  He  answered  in  a  querulous  tone, 
still  continuing  his  labor. 

"  Then  I  suppose  you'd  like  a  job  from  me,  that  may  be'll 
pay  you  well." 

"  If  its  honest  labor,  the  Lord  hi  heaven  knows  I'd  be  glad 
enough  to  do  it,  but  if  its  the  devil's  work,  I  won't,"  said  the 
old  man  earnestly,  as  he  laid  aside  the  garment  on  which  he 
had  been  at  work. 

"  Won't  !  that's  a  bold  word  to  use." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  once,  but  I've  got  beyond  fear.     These 


ARKEST     AND     BRIBERY.  247 

withered  hands  have  earned  my  bread  honestly  for  years 
past,  and  with  God's  help  they  shall  do  so  still." 

"  Of  course  ;  but  you  needn't  be  afraid  of  my  wanting 
anything  bad  of  you — its  only  a  little  errand  I  want  you  to 
go  on  for  me." 

"  It  does  seem  to  me  that  you  might  be  able  to  find  many 
younger  and  stronger  limbs  than  mine  to  run  of  errands.  I 
mistrust  you  still." 

"  Don't  be  too  suspicious." 

"  Tell  me,  then,  at  once,  and  plainly,  what  it  is  you  want. 
I  will  not  be  tempted." 

"  Listen,  then.  A  friend  of  mine,  down  South,  has  a 
little  daughter,  about  nine  years  of  age,  in  this  city,  living 
down  on  Greenwich  street  there,  with  a  man  called  Foster. 
He's  a  doctor.  My  friend  left  her  only  for  a  few  weeks,  in- 
tending to  come  and  take  her  away,  but  was  taken  sick  and 
couldn't  come  for  a  long  tune,  and  finally  sent  for  her  ;  but 
this  doctor  has  become  attached  to  her,  as  he  pretends,  and 
won't  let  her  go  ;  and  because  I  am  anxious  to  help  my 
friend,  he  refuses  to  let  me  see  the  child,  or  go  to  his  house. 
Now  I'm  going  to  take  the  child  away  from  him,  and  re- 
store her  to  her  father,  who  is  pining  for  her.  I  want 
you  therefore  to  go  this  evening  and  tell  the  child  (her  name's 
Anna  Hervey)  that  the  doctor  wants  to  see  her  at  his 
office  ;  then  I  will  meet  you  somewhere  and  arrange  the 
rest." 

"  It  looks  fair  enough,  and  may  be  all  right ;  but  I  tell 


248      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

you  again  I  mistrust  you,  and  I  will  sooner  rot  in  idleness, 
than  undertake  anything  that  may  lead  to  crime." 

"  Look  you,  sir,  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  begging,  and  I'll 
tell  you  something  that  may  warm  your  old  blood.  Did 
you  ever  hear  the  story  of  an  old  man  with  a  grey  head  like 
yours,  who  went  to  a  certain  humble  person  and  borrowed 
a  small  amount  of  money,  and  gave,  as  security,  a  note 
endorsed  by  a  certain  wealthy  citizen ;  and  did  you  ever  hear 
how,  when  this  note  was  shown  to  this  certain  wealthy  citi- 
zen, he  pronounced  his  signature  a  forgery,  and  then  how  the 
maker  of  the  note  came  and  returned  the  money,  with  a 
large  interest,  so  that  he  might  escape  the  prison  ;  and  how 
the  note  couldn't,  just  at  that  moment,  be  found,  and  never 
was  seen  by  the  maker  from  that  time  to  this — this  very 
minute.  And  die1  you  ever  hear  that  that  forged  note 
looked  just  like  the  piece  of  paper  that  I've  got  here  ?  Ah ! 
1  see  you've  heard  the  story  before,"  said  Haun,  ironically,  as 
he  held  aloft  in  his  hand,  a  small  strip  of  paper,  on  which  the 
eyes  of  the  old  man  had  been  fixed  with  piercing  earnest- 
ness, during  the  remarks  of  Haun.  The  latter  observed  his 
manner,  as  he  refolded  the  paper,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket, 
and  remarked  : 

"  Now,  you'd  like  to  have  this  little  strip  of  paper  in  your 
possession  ;  I  know  you  would,  but  you  are  not  willing  to 
help  a  friend,  and  so " 

"  I  will,  I  will,  give  me  the  paper,"  said  the  old  man, 
with  the  energy  of  despair,  and  then  immediately  sank  his 


AKKE8T     AND     BKIBEKY.  249 

head  upon  his  hand  ;  but  again  starting  up,  he  added  : 
"  Yes,  I  have  heard  the  story  before,  and  I  remember  it 
well,  and  since  then  I've  tried  to  live  honestly  before  God 
and  man,  and  trusted  that  this,  my  first  crime,  was  forgot- 
ten ;  but  you  will  not  let  me  ;  you  haunt  me  like  an  evil 
spirit,  and  tempt  me  to  sin.  Give  me  that  paper,  and  I'll 
do  what  you  ask  ;  but  if  there's  crime  in  it,  on  your  own 
head  be  it." 

"  Certainly,  you  are  mistaken,  old  man  ;  I  don't  want  to 
persecute  you  ;  but  your  grey  head  and  honest  face  may 
help  me  some,  and  I  choose  to  use  you." 

"  At  what  hour  shall  I  go  ?" 

"  At  eight,  precisely,  call  at  my  shop,  and  I  will  direct 
you  more  particularly." 

"  I  shall  try  and  be  punctual." 

"  Try  I  I've  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  you'll  be  there  at 
the  time — at  the  very  minute — and  now  I  must  go,"  said 
Hann,  as  he  left  the  room  and  returned  hastily  to  his  own 
shop,  where  he  busied  himself  with  certain  preparations 
until  a  rap  was  heard  at  his  door,  which  he  had  locked  and 
securely  fastened.  Going  towards  it,  he  carefully  opened  it, 
till  he  recognized  his  visitor,  whom  he  desired  to  enter  for  a 
moment ;  then,  completing  the  labor  on  which  he  was 
engaged,  relocked  his  door,  and  with  his  companion  sallied 
out. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,  and  be  punctual,  too." 

"  Yes,  I  am  indeed  here,  but  my  heart  misgives  me.    Is  it 
the  plain  truth  that  you  have  told  me  ?" 
11* 


250        OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Don't  trouble  your  brain  too  much,  or  it  might  not  be 
well  for  you  ;  here  take  this  street,  it  leads  into  Greenwich 
street,  turn  to  the  right  and  you'll  see  the  name  on  the 
door.  I  shall  be  near,  and  mind,  no  bungling.  By  the 
way,  there's  an  Irish  servant,  tell  her  she's  wanted  too." 

"  I  do  still  fear  that  it  is  a  business  an  honest  man  should 
spurn,  but  I  must  go  on  in  it  now  whatever  be  the  result, '» 
said  the  old  man  to  himself,  as  he  turned  to  leave.  "  But 
why  have  the  servant  also  ?"  he  turned  to  inquire. 

"  Because  we  should  have  her  anyway,  and  it  would  be 
best  to  send  for  her  in  the  first  place  ;  but  I'll  dispose  of 
her.  Now,  hurry  on." 

"  I  will,  but  I  trust  there'll  be  no  violence  used  upon  the 
person  of  either,"  he  said,  again  stopping. 

"  Just  go  on,  and  do  as  I  want  you  to ;  time  is  pressing," 
Haun  answered. 

"  Now  don't,  I  pray  you,  get  impatient,  I  find  that  I  can't 
go  with  the  speed  that  I  could  once  ;  I'm  getting  feebler 
every  day." 

Haun  approached  the  old  man,  and  said,  through  his 
closed  teeth,  as  he  laid  his  hand  heavily  on  his  shoulder  : 
"  Are  we  to  stay  here  all  night,  or  are  you  going  ?"  The 
old  man  did  not  wait  to  answer,  but  moved  off  as  briskly 
as  age  and  weakness  would  permit.  Arrived  at  Dr.  Foster's 
house,  which  he  found  without  difficulty;  he  rung  the  bell, 
and  Bridget  appeared  at  the  door. 

"I  am  told  that  Doctor  Foster  lives  here.  Is  there  a 
child  of  nine  years  and  upward  living  with  him  ?" 


ARKE8T     AND     BKIBEKT.  251 

"  There's  no  one  but  Anna  Hervey,"  Bridget  answered. 

"  True  1  and  a  servant  girl,  whose  name  is " 

"  Bridget,"  she  interrupted  ;  "  that's  meself." 
"  True,  the  doctor  wishes  you  to  accompany  me  with  the 
child  to  his  office." 

"  To  go  to  his  office,  and  for  what,  I'd  like  to  know  ?" 
"  Indeed  I  know  not ;  I  asked  no  questions,  but  came  as 
fast  as  I  could." 

"  Well,  sir,  will  ye  be  pleased  to  wait  a  bit  while  we  get 
ready  ?"    said  Bridget,  as  she  turned  to  Anna,  who  had 
approached  on  hearing  voices,  and  asked  : 
"  What  is  it,  Biddy  ?  what  does  he  want  ?" 
"  Jist  nothing  at  all,  but  to  go  to  the  docthor's  office;  so, 
get  yerself  ready." 

"  Who  is  he  ?    Did  the  doctor  send  you  for  us  ?"  contin- 
ued Anna,  turning  to  him. 

"  Surely,  my  dear  child,  or  why  should  I  have  come  ?" 
"  Why  didn't  he  come  home  himself  ?" 
"  I  really  am  not  able  to  answer  your  question." 
"  What  can  he  want  of  us  so  late  in  the  evening  ?" 
"  I  wish  I  could  tell  you,  child,  but  I  cannot." 
Without  further  questioning,  the  party  left  the  house,  and 
proceeded  towards  the  doctor's  office.     They  went  before, 
leading  the  way,  and  did  not  observe  the  significant  fact 
that  their  companion  seemed  to  be  ignorant  of  the  proper 
direction.     Had  they  noticed   this  circumstance,  it  would 
have  put  them  on  their  guard;  but  without  guile  themselves 
suspected  no  evil  designs  in  others.    As  they  passed 


252       OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

/• 

unsuspectingly  along,  a  man  darted  from  the  shadow  of  a 
building,  and  as  his  form  appeared  for  an  instant  before  her 
eyes,  Biddy  fell  prostrate  upon  the  earth,  struck  senseless 
by  a  blow  upon  the  side  of  the  head,  which  came  with  such 
force,  and  so  unexpectedly,  that  she  had  not  the  time  to 
even  utter  a  scream.  At  almost  the  very  instant  the  blow 
was  struck,  Anna  felt  herself  grasped  by  a  muscular  hand? 
and  a  handkerchief  bound  instantly  around  her  mouth,  so  as 
to  completely  stifle  any  sound  that  she  might  attempt  to 
utter.  At  the  same  time,  a  shawl  was  thrown  over  her 
head,  and  she  felt  herself  raised  up  from  the  walk  and 
rapidly  borne  along  the  street.  As  soon  as  she  had  par- 
tially recovered  her  senses,  so  as  to  realize  her  situation,  she 
endeavored  to  cry  out,  but  could  only  utter  inarticulate 
sounds.  She  endeavored  to  writhe  herself  from  the  grasp 
of  her  captor,  but  in  vain  ;  his  long  arms  coiled  around  her 
like  bonds,  and  effectually  prevented  any  motion,  and  their 
increased  pressure  at  any  attempt  to  release  herself  became 
intensely  painful.  After  being  borne,  as  it  seemed  to 
her,  a  great  distance,  she  was  placed  upon  the  ground, 
and  heard  her  captor  muttering  :  "  Why  don't  he  move 
along?  time  for  him  to  be  here."  And  soon  thereafter 
footsteps  were  heard  approaching,  and  she  recognized  the 
voice  of  the  speaker,  as  he  said,  petulantly  to  the  new 
comer  : 

"Well,  you're  here  at  last.     Now  make  you're  old  legs 
more  lively,  and  find  where  the  boat  lies." 

"Yes,  the  Lord  be  praised,"  answered  the  person  ad- 


ARREST     AND     BRIBERY.  253 

dressed,  as  he  drew  a  long  breath,  "  I'm  here,  at  last,  but  it 
has  wrenched  me  terribly  to  come  with  such  speed.  Don't 
be  impatient — I've  no  doubt  I  shall  soon  find  it,  and  then 
I'll  come  and  inform  you." 

"  Well,  do  it,  then,  and  don't  speak  loud  enough  to  raise 
the  city  ;  I'm  not  deaf.  It's  lucky  that  it's  as  dark  as 
Egypt,  or  the  whole  pack  would  be  howling  around  us." 

The  other  person  made  no  answer,  but  the  sound  of  re- 
treating steps  was  heard,  and  then  again  all  was  still  for  a 
few  moments.  The  sound  of  steps  approaching  was  again 
heard,  and  the  same  voice  remarked : 

"  I've  found  it.     It's  but  a  short  distance  from  here." 

"  Well,  lead  the  way,  then,  and  be  quiet.  Now,  girl,  I'm 
going  to  take  you  to  your  uncle,  as  I  told  you.  Mind  that 
you  don't  try  to  escape  from  me,  or  to  make  any  noise,  or 
I'll  stop  your  talking  in  a  way  you  won't  like." 

"  Now  do  go  on,  and  show  the  way — don't  stand  all 
night,"  said  Haun,  impatiently. 

"  Yes,  I  will ;  but  don't  take  it  amiss,  I  pray  you,  if  I 
desire  you  to  return  to  me  the  note  that  you  hold,  as  you 
must  recollect  you  promised  to  do." 

"  Of  course,  when  you've  kept  your  part  of  the  contract." 

"  Don't  consider  me  too  urgent ;  but  I  can't  rest  in  peace 
while  the  paper  is  in  your  possession,  and  I  hope,  for  your 
own  sake,  you  will  not  oblige  me  to " 

"  Oh,  •* your  long-winded  sermons — there,  take  the 

note — here  it  is.  Now  lead  the  way." 

"  No — I  have  the  paper,  and  I  will  not  lead  the  way.    I 


254      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

will  do  this  much,  however  :  I  will  point  to  the  boat,  that 
you  may  find  it.  It  is  there,"  said  the  old  man,  and  after  a 
pause,  resumed  :  "  I  do  not  feel  right  about  my  share  in  this 
business,  although  it  may  be  all  correct,  and  I  trust  we 
may  never  meet  again  on  earth — so  farewell."  Haun, 
without  waiting  to  hear  the  remainder  of  his  remark,  again 
seized  his  charge  in  his  arms,  and  saying  in  a  subdued  tone, 
"  Now,  girl,  remember  if  you  speak  one  word  aloud,  I'll 
throttle  you,"  passed  quickly  and  quietly  on  to  the  boat  ; 
but  as  he  and  the  girl  crossed  the  guards,  he  was  met  by 
one  of  the  crew,  who  seemed  to  be  on  watch,  who  demanded 
peremptorily  his  business  at  that  late  hour.  Haun  replied, 
in  a  conciliatory  manner,  that  he  was  a  stranger,  and  had 
come  with  his  little  grand-daughter,  to  take  passage  on  the 
boat,  supposing  that  it  would  leave  that  evening — but  if  not, 
then  he  wanted  to  secure  a  passage,  and  stay  on  board  until 
morning.  But  Haun  found  that  every  undertaking,  however 
trivial  or  unimportant,  has  its  obstacles  to  overcome,  and 
was  therefore  dumbfounded,  when  he  was  informed,  in  no 
very  gentle  or  carefully  chosen  words,  that  the  boat  didn't 
leave  till  the  next  evening,  and  that  it  was  too  late  for  Mm 
to  secure  a  passage  that  night,  and  that  even  if  he  har 
already  done  so,  he  could  not  come  on  until  the  next  day,  as 
it  was  against  orders  to  have  passengers  staying  on  board. 
Haun  felt  himself  placed  in  a  very  disagreeable  predicament. 
He  could  not  remain  on  board  of  the  boat,  and  he  dared  not 
return  into  the  city  ;  but  he  knew  by  experience  that  nothing 
was  obtained  without  labor  and  cost,  and  therefore  proceeded 


ARREST     AND     BRIBERY.  255 

accordingly,  and  had  the  satisfaction  to  find  his  labors 
crowned  with  success.  After  a  long  conference,  he  induced 
the  man  who  was  known  among  the  crew  by  the  name  of 
Ben,  not  only  to  admit  him  with  his  charge  on  board,  at  that 
late  hour,  but  also  to  make  provision  for  a  place  of  thorough 
concealment  in  the  store-room,  until  the  boat  should  be  under 
way  and  all  danger  past,  and  to  supply  him  with  all  things 
necessary,  until  such  time  as  he  might  dare  to  show  himself. 
The  bargain  was,  after  some  haggling,  concluded,  and  Haun 
was  temporarily  shown  to  a  part  of  the  boat  least  exposed 
to  observation,  where  he  could  remain  until  the  crew  should 
have  retired  to  their  berths,  and  thus  be  out  of  the  way,  and 
then  he  could  seek  his  retreat.  He  remained  shivering  in 
the  night  air,  until  the  evening  was  well  advanced,  and  then, 
under  the  guidance  of  his  friend,  all  appearing  quiet  below, 
sought  his  place  of  refuge,  in  the  store-room.  The  day  finally 
dawned,  and  to  Haun,  in  his  confined  position,  seemed  to  pass 
slowly  away  ;  but  as  night  again  approached,  he  regained 
his  spirits  and  his  courage,  and  waited  impatiently  for  the 
vessel  to  leave  port.  He  was,  however,  far  from  feeling  at 
ease  ;  his  limbs  had  become  cramped  from  their  long  re- 
straint and  want  of  exercise,  and  he  was  obliged  to  exert  a 
constant  watchfulness  over  his  charge,  to  prevent  her  utter- 
ing any  sound  that  might  attract  the  attention  of  the  crew, 
whenever  any  of  them  might  happen  to  pass  near.  On 
hearing  the  voices  of  the  party  in  pursuit  of  Anna,  his  heart 
sank,  and  he  crouched  still  closer  into  the  corner  that  he  had 
chosen  for  his  place  of  refuge  ;  but  when  Anna's  smothered 


256      OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

cry  had  attracted  their  attention,  he  gave  all  up  as  lost,  and 
prepared  to  defend  himself  desperately  ;  but  when  he  heard 
their  retreating  footsteps  become  fainter,  then  he  became 
exhilarated  with  joy  at  his  escape,  but  again  catching  the 
sound  of  their  voices,  and  hearing  the  doctor  shouting  the 
name  of  "  Anna,"  he  prepared  himself  for  any  emergency, 
rather  than  be  arrested.  The  idea  of  escape  occurred  to 
him  suddenly,  as  the  door  flew  open,  and  he  saw  the  opportu- 
nity presented.  It  was  not  premeditated. 

On  leaping  from  the  boat  on  to  the  dock,  he  ran  at  full 
speed,  and  was  soon  covered  by  the  darkness.  After  run- 
ning with  as  little  noise  as  possible,  two  blocks,  he  stopped 
and  listened  for  the  sound  of  pursuing  footsteps,  but  to  his 
surprise,  he  heard  nothing.  He  turned  and  retraced  his 
steps  for  a  short  distance,  and  again  listened,  but  in  vain. 
He  grew  bolder,  and  skulking  carefully  along,  reached  un- 
seen a  pile  of  boxes  on  the  dock,  behind  which  he  crept.  As 
he  crouched  in  his  hiding-place,  he  observed  the  sheriff  and 
his  party  leave  the  boat,  and  heard  distinctly  their  conver- 
sation. 

He  followed  them  carefully  in  the  darkness,  for  a  short 
distance,  revolving  in  his  mind  the  chances  of  success  in 
attempting  a  rescue,  when  the  party  should  separate,  but 
finally  gave  it  up  as  being  too  hazardous,  and  again  slunk 
away  into  the  gloom  of  night. 

Making  his  way  through  by-streets  and  alleys,  Haun  once 
more  returned  to  the  neighborhood  of  his  own  shop.  He 
could  discern  by  the  dim  light  of  a  street  lamp  that  flickered 


ARREST     AND     BRIBERY.  257 

near,  the  destruction  that  had  rioted  upon  his  cherished  pro- 
perty. He  did  not  dare  to  go  nearer,  but  gliding  around  to 
a  private  door,  entered.  He  felt  his  way  along  until  he 
reached  a  trap-door,  which  he  raised,  and  kneeling  upon  the 
floor,  extended  his  arm  into  the  aperture,  and  drew  there- 
from a  small  tin  box,  which  he  deposited  beside  him  ;  then 
rising  hastily,  he  groped  his  way  into  his  inner  apartment, 
into  which  the  crowd  had  not  penetrated,  and  in  a  moment 
re-appeared,  disguised  by  the  addition  of  a  large  wig  of  grey 
hair,  a  Quaker  hat,  and  a  drab  coat  of  formal  cut,  and  then 
seizing  his  box,  opened  the  door  and  prepared  to  leave.  But 
alas  for  the  fallibility  of  human  expectations.  A  policeman 
had  been  stationed  to  watch  the  premises  for  the  very  pur- 
pose of  intercepting  Haun,  in  case  of  his  return  ;  and  now, 
simple  man,  he  runs  into  the  very  net  which  his  own  cunning 
should  have  taught  him  to  avoid.  The  policeman,  therefore, 
himself  unobserved,  quietly  stood  awaiting  Haun's  exit,  and 
as  the  latter  stepped  from  the  door,  the  officer  stood  before 
him,  with  his  club  raised  ready  to  arrest  his  departure  ;  the 
watchman  laid  his  other  hand  heavily  upon  Haun's  shoulder. 
The  pawnbroker  was  taken  at  disadvantage,  and  his  courage 
failed  him.  With  a  blank  visage,  he  cast  his  eyes  about  on 
either  side,  as  far  as  the  darkness  would  permit,  to  discover 
whether  any  opportunity  for  escape  or  resistance  offered, 
while  the  officer  said  mockingly,  and  with  a  nasal  twang  : 

"  Friend,  art  thou  ready  to  go  with  me  ?" 

"  Don't  stop  me,"  said  Haun,  in  an  excited  manner  ;  "  I 


258       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

must  be  off  with  the  boat.  I'll  pay  you — come,  how  much 
shall  I  give  you  ?" 

"  Thou  art  very  generous,  but  if  thou  'rt  ready,  we  will 
commence  our  travel,"  persisted  the  officer. 

"No,  no,  don't — say  what  it  shall  be,  and  here's  your 
money." 

"  Would'st  thou  tempt  me,  wicked  man  ?" 

"  Ten — twenty — thirty  dollars,"  Haun  answered,  with  a 
long  pause  between  each  word  ;  "  say  how  much." 

"  Gammon  1  I  see  you  a'nt  in  earnest,"  said  the  officer, 
dropping  the  assumed  tone. 

"  Stop  I  don't  go  yet  ;  tell  me  what  you'll  take." 

"  Two  hundred  dollars,  and  nothing  less." 

"  I've  not  so  much  money.  See — I've  been  robbed  of  my 
property." 

"Well,  then,  let's  go." 

"  Say  one  hundred  dollars,  and  I'll  try." 

"  I've  already  told  you,  and  if  you're  not  satisfied,  don't 
let's  stop  to  talk." 

"  Here  !"  said  Haun,  as  if  struck  with  a  sudden  idea,  I'll 
give  you  a  hundred  now,  and  the  other  hundred  when  I  get 
back." 

"  Will  you,  though,  for  sure  ?"  said  the  policeman,  ironi- 
cally. 

"  Yes,  I  will,  and  another  fifty  on  top  of  it." 

"  Yes  you  won't ;  but  there's  no  use  talking — I  see  you 
had  rather  go  to  jail ;  and  hark,  I  hear  some  one  coming — 


ABKEBT     AND     BKIBEEY.  259 

\ 

it  may  be  too  late,  already,  to  arrange  it.  Never  mind,  I'll 
call  him,  and  see  who  it  is." 

"  No,  don't — here's  a  hundred  and  fifty  in  gold — the  last 
farthing  I  have  in  the  world,  as  true  as  I  live,"  Haun  an- 
swered in  a  whining  voice. 

"  Then  come  on,  will  you  go  willingly,  or  shall  I  give  the 
signal  for  assistance  ?" 

"  Stop  1  stop  !  here's  the  money,  two  hundred  dollars, 
and  I'm  a  ruined  man." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  officer,  as  he  counted  the  pieces, 
"  now  I'd  advise  you  to  move  off  softly,  or  you  might  get 
nabbed  again — and  mind  about  showing  your  ugly  mug  very 
soon,  around  here." 

Haun  did  not  wait  for  a  second  bidding,  but,  as  soon  as 
he  was  released,  made  his  long  limbs  do  good  service — while 
the  policeman  continued  his  round,  and  reported  at  head 
quarters,  that  no  one  had  appeared,  but  forgot  to  speak  of 
the  two  hundred  dollars  that  he  had  received. 

But  policemen  were  not  so  incorruptible  in  those  days, 
as  they  are  at  present. 

After  the  fortunate  release  of  Haun  from  the  hands  of  the 
policeman,  he  was  moved  with  conflicting  emotions,  misfor- 
tunes had  fallen  heavily  upon  him,  the  prize  that  he  had  so 
long  struggled,  striven,  and  plotted  for,  had  been  wrung 
from  his  very  grasp.  His  premises  had  been  invaded,  and 
his  property  ruthlessly  destroyed  by  a  mob.  He  had  paid 
out  his  money  for  his  liberty — his  money,  that  he  worshipped. 
And  what  had  he  gained  ?  He  had  escaped  when  in  immi- 


260      OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

nent  danger.  But  he  was  an  outlaw,  and  dare  not  walk 
abroad  at  noonday,  nor  appear  in  his  accustomed  haunts. 
The  accomplishment  of  his  great  object  was  still  unperfected. 
He  had  been  but  preparing  the  way  to  the  fulfillment  of  the 
design  on  which  his  heart  had  doted.  The  means  that  he 
had  adopted  to  reach  this  end,  had  been  wrested  from  him 
in  part  only.  He  had  the  remnant  of  his  shattered  allies 
still  in  his  possession,  and  with  a  dogged  determination, 
resolved  that  no  consideration  should  restrain  him  or  induce 
him  to  recede.  He  knew  full  well  that  it  would  not  be 
judicious  to  let  the  day  dawn  upon  him,  while  tarrying  in 
the  neighborhood  of  New  York.  As  he  walked  slowly  and 
cautiously  along,  revolving  such  thoughts,  the  grey  light  of 
morning  began  to  appear  in  the  east.  Looking  around  for 
some  place  of  refuge,  he  discovered  that  he  was  not  far 
from  the  river,  where  the  flags  of  vessels  of  all  nations  were 
lazily  floating  upon  the  breeze  of  morning.  His  resolution 
was  soon  taken.  Selecting  indifferently  one  of  the  nearest 
boats,  he  went  on  board,  and  weary  in  body,  but  with  his 
iron  will  still  unbent,  threw  himself  upon  a  seat,  and  soon 
sank  into  a  deep  sleep. 

The  vessel  was  bound  for  Havana,  as  he  learned  after- 
wards. He  did  not  awake  until  aroused  by  the  rays  of  the 
morning  sun  which  fell  full  upon  his  face,  and  he  then 
went  immediately  helow,  both  for  the  purpose  of  escap- 
ing observation,  and  of  inquiring  the  destination  of  the 
boat. 

He  listened  with  delight  to  the  rattle  of  wheels,  as  vehicle 


ARKE8T     AND     BKIBEET.  261 

after  vehicle,  loaded  with  passengers  whirled  madly  through 
the  streets,  down  to  the  dock.  He  heard,  with  pleasure,  the 
constantly  increasing  hum  and  bustle  of  life.  He  heard  the 
"heave-ho  1"  of  the  crew  as  the  last  parcel  of  freight  was 
tumbled  into  the  hold.  The  signal  was  given — the  plank  pulled 
in — the  lines  cast  off — and  then  the  pawnbroker  felt  that  he 
had  escaped  fiery  trials — that  danger  was  past — and  giving 
one  sullen  scowling  look  to  the,  by  him  deserted  city,  turned 
his  back  resolutely  upon  it,  and  cast  his  eyes  seaward, 
where  the  broad  expanse  of  waters  lay  before  him. 


262      OLD     HATJN,     THE     PAWNBROKER 


CHAPTER    XII. 

MB.      PIERCE     AND     MICH. 

"  WEEPING  may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  with 
the  morning."  So  wrote  the  Psalmist,  and  so  it  was  in  the 
house  of  Doctor  Foster,  after  the  restoration  of  the  lost 
one. 

But  the  doctor,  not  yet  knowing  of  Haun's  escape  from 
the  city,  feared  a  repetition  of  the  attempt  which  had  so 
fortunately  miscarried,  and,  therefore,  concluded  that  a 
proper  regard  for  the  safety  of  the  child  would  be  consulted 
only  by  placing  her  beyond  his  reach. 

He  revolved  the  matter  in  his  mind,  as  he  sat  at  break- 
fast, and  ate  his  solitary  meal,  for  Anna  had  not  yet  arisen, 
and  he  hesitated  to  disturb  her,  after  the  mental  excitement 
of  the  past  few  hours.  But  his  reverie  was  unexpectedly 
interrupted  by  her  entrance.  She  approached,  and  throw- 
ing her  arms  around  his  neck,  greeted  him  with  the  usual 
morning  salutation,  and  said  : 

"  How  glad  I  am  to  be  back  here  again;  but  I  dreamt  all 
night  about  that  old  man.  What  do  you  suppose  he  wanted 
of  me  r 


MB.     PIERCE     AND     MICH.  263 

"  I  don't  know,  never  mind  him  ;  I  wouldn't  think  of  him 
any  more." 

"  I  know  what  he  wanted  ;  he  told  me  he  was  going  to 
take  me  to  my  uncle." 

"  He  did?  we'll  find  out  all  about  that  uncle  before  long." 

"  I  don't  care  for  any  uncle  but  you;  but,  perhaps,  he  will 
come  and  try  again,"  said  Anna,  shuddering. 

"  No,  no,  I  think  not ;  but  we  must  be  on  our  guard. 
You  must  not  stay  here  for  the  present." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  don't  send  me  away." 

"  I've  got  a  friend  hi  the  country,  and,  I  think " 

"  But,  you  know,  Mich's  coming,  too,  this  morning," 
interrupted  Anna,  "  and  I  want  to  see  him  ;  he'd  feel  bad, 
if  he  should  come  and  find  me  gone  ;  and,  perhaps,  he'd 
think  I  didn't  want  to  see  him." 

"  Well,  yon  ought  to  be  glad  to  see  him,  child  ;  for,  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  him,  we  should  not  have  found  you.  I'm 
sure  of  that." 

"  Where  do  you  want  me  to  go  ?" 

"  I  wanted  you  to  go  into  the  country,  but  I  must  stay 
here  to-day,  and,  perhaps,  for  several  days  ;  and  so,  I  think, 
I  will  let  you  visit  some  friend  till  I  can  dispose  of  my 
business." 

"  But  you  don't  think  he  would  come  into  the  house  dur- 
ing the  day  ?" 

"  I  don't  think  anything  about  it,  child,  and  I'm  not 
going  to  risk  anything,  and  until  I  am  sure  that  he  is  a 
hundred  miles  from  the  city,  I  shall  not  feel  secure  ;  so  I 


264-       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

must  think  of  some  place — by  the  way,  there's  that  minis- 
ter who  was  here  once.  I'm  not  much  acquainted  with  him, 
but  he  don't  live  far  from  here,  and,  I  think,  I  can  arrange 
it  with  him.  How  would  you  like  going  there  ?" 

"I  should  like  that;  but,  perhaps  they  wouldn't  want  me." 

"  Well,  I'll  see  to  that.  Finish  your  breakfast,  and  then 
go  and  fix  yourself  up  a  little  ;  because  he  has  some  chil- 
dren and  I  want  you  to  look  nicely  ;  and  then  we'll  go  and 
see  if  they  want  a  visitor." 

The  breakfast  was  soon  finished,  and,  in  a  few  minutes, 
Anna  stood  ready  to  accompany  the  doctor.  As  she 
approached,  he  glanced  at  her  with  a  feeling  of  gratified 
pride.  Her  pale  face  was  in  such  marked  contrast  with  the 
deep  hue  of  her  dress,  while  her  large,  hazel  eyes  showed 
such  a  depth  of  intelligence  and  feeling,  that  the  casual 
glance  of  the  passer  was  involuntarily  arrested,  and  he 
turned  to  look  again.  She  did  not  possess  that  perfection 
of  mould  in  her  feature  which  constitutes  beauty  ;  but 
there  was  that  indescribable  something  in  the  expression 
of  her  face,  which  seemed  to  be  more  of  spiritual  than 
mortal. 

"  So,  my  little  girl  is  ready,"  said  the  doctor  fondly,  as 
she  approached,  and,  taking  her  by  the  hand,  "  Well,  now, 
come  along  ;"  and,  turning  to  Biddy,  he  added  :  "  Tell 
Mich,  if  he  should  come,  that  I  was  in  a  hurry,  and  couldn't 
wait,  but  I'll  see  him  at  the  office." 

They  left  the  house,  and,  after  a  short  walk,  stood  before 
the  door  of  the  Rev.  Joseph  Eandall,  the  clergyman  who 


MR.    PIERCE      AND     MICH.  265 

was  present  and  ministered  to  Mrs.  Hervey  during  her  last 
illness. 

A  servant  answered  their  summons,  and  showing  them 
into  a  plainly  furnished  parlor,  left  them  to  call  her  master, 
who  soon  entered  and  greeted  them  cordially. 

The  doctor,  from  his  not  by  any  means,  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  the  clergyman,  felt  somewhat  embarrassed 
in  opening  to  him  the  subject  of  his  early  visit.  He  said, 
at  the  same  time  glancing  at  Anna  : 

"  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you." 

"  Anything  that  is  in  my  power,"  Mr.  Randall  answered. 

"  I  dare  not  leave  my  little  girl  at  home,  and  I  wish  you 
to  permit  her  to  remain  with  your  family  for,  perhaps,  a 
day  or  two." 

"Certainly,  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure,"  the  clergy- 
man quickly  answered,  but  still  not  entirely  able  to  conceal 
a  look  of  surprise  at  the  request. 

"  Thank  you.  I  hope  she  won't  trouble  you  ;  I  will  come 
for  her  myself  before  dark,  so  don't  let  her  go  with  any 
one  else.  Circumstances  require  that  she  should  be  closely 
guarded  for  a  day  or  two." 

"  I  will  attend  to  your  request ;  but  I  trust  nothing 
unpleasant  has  occurred  to ?" 

"  Unpleasant !  yes,  sir,  I  am  obliged  to  say  that  some- 
thing very  unpleasant  has  occurred,"  the  doctor  answered, 
with  more  emphasis  than  he  intended  or  was  aware  of. 

"  Indeed  !  I  am  anxious  to  learn  what  it  can  be." 

"  It  is  right  that  I  should  inform  you,"  the  doctor  replied, 


266     OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

and  immediately  detailed,  as  concisely  as  possible,  the  events 
with  which  the  reader  is  already  familiar  ;  and  rising  to  take 
his  leave,  added  :  "  From  this,  you  will  understand  my  object 
in  bringing  her  to  you  ;  and  you  will  also  see  the  necessity 
of  her  being  carefully  guarded  until  we  can  learn  whether 
the  villain  has  left  the  city,  or  whether  he  is  still  prowling 
about  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  more  successful  attempt." 

"Your  wishes  shall  be  regarded.  I  hope  she  will  stay 
with  us  contentedly." 

"Be  a  good  girl,  Anna— good  bye,"  said  the  doctor,  as 
he  left  the  room.  Anna's  bosom  heaved,  and  tears  started 
to  her  eyes,  when  she  was  left  alone  ;  but  she  quickly  sup- 
pressed her  emotion  when  Mr.  Randall  re-entered  the  room, 
and  taking  her  hand,  spoke  a  few  encouraging  words,  and 
invited  her  to  go  with  him  into  the  nursery  to  get  acquainted 
with  his  children.  Anna's  timidity  soon  wore  off,  and  the 
children  became  quickly  acquainted — the  day  passed  rapidly 
away,  and  when  the  doctor  came  for  her,  in  the  evening,  she 
left,  with  many  promises  of  soon  coming  again,  delighted 
with  her  visit. 

The  family  of  Mr.  Randall  consisted  of  three  children — 
the  eldest,  a  boy  of  fourteen  years,  who  had  conceived  for 
liis  new  acquaintance  quite  a  boyish  fancy,  while  she,  on  the 
other  hand,  had  been  attracted  by  his  frank  and  open  man- 
ner, and  preferred  his  society  to  that  of  the  younger  children. 

She  went  often  afterwards  to  pass  a  day  in  the  family  of 
Mr.  Randall,  where  she  was  always  warmly  and  cordially 
welcomed. 


ME.      PIEKCE      AND     MICH.  267 

After  Doctor  Foster  had  disposed  of  his  charge  for  the 
day,  he  went  immediately  in  search  of  the  sheriff.  From 
him  he  learned,  to  his  great  disappointment,  that  Haun  had 
not  been  captured,  but  had  probably  escaped  from  the  city. 
He  also  learned  from  the  same  source,  that  upon  examination 
of  the  pockets  of  the  coat  accidentally  left  by  Haun,  several 
important  papers  were  discovered,  some  of  which  showed  his 
connection  with  many  of  the  most  notorious  criminals  of  the 
day,  who  had  made  his  shop  a  depot  for  every  kind  of  pro- 
perty obtained  by  them  through  burglary  and  theft.  And 
it  was  also  suspected,  from  what  was  there  discovered,  that 
he  was  implicated  with  a  regularly  organized  band,  not  only 
as  a  recipient  of  property  illegally  obtained,  but  as  a  promi" 
nent  actor  in  many  of  the  more  daring  robberies  which,  at 
that  time,  as  will  be  seen  by  reference  to  the  journals  of  the 
day,  were  mysteriously  perpetrated. 

The  discovery  of  these  papers  caused  suspicion  to  fall 
heavily  also  upon  several  persons  who  had  hitherto  sustained 
a  fair  reputation,  and  in  consequence  of  which  a  thorough 
and  secret  inquisition  was  instituted,  and  prosecuted  with 
vigor  by  the  sheriff,  in  conjunction  with  the  city  authorities, 
but  although  sufficient  proof  was  obtained  to  render  their 
guilt  morally  certain,  still,  the  legal  evidence  was  wanting, 
on  which  a  prosecution  could  have  been  based,  and  thus  the 
guilty  escaped. 

Doctor  Foster  expressed  his  chagrin  at  the  escape  of  Haun, 
and  urged  upon  the  sheriff  the  necessity  of  scouring  the  city 
to  render  it  certain  that  he  was  not  still  lurking  about  in 


268      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

some  of  the  dens  of  crime  and  infamy  ;  but  the  sheriffs  ex- 
perience taught  him  that  Haun,  having  had  a  fair  opportu- 
nity and  sufficient  time  to  place  himself  beyond  their  reach, 
would  suffer  no  ordinary  inducement  to  keep  him,  but  would 
consult  his  safety  by  flight  ;  and  in  reply  to  the  demand  of 
the  doctor  that  he  should  continue,  without  intermission,  the 
search,  said  : 

"Be  patient,  doctor — I  tell  you  there's  no  use  in  looking 
for  him.  I  know  enough  of  such  matters  to  assure  you  with 
confidence  that  he  is  not  in  the  city." 

"  I  doubt  if  the  old  Shylock  would  go  and  leave  his  pro- 
perty in  this  way.  It's  that  that  makes  me  think  he  must 
be  prowling  around  waiting  for  a  chance  to  carry  it  with 
him." 

"You  may  depend  upon  it,  doctor,  he's  no  bird  to  be 
caught  by  chaff ;  and  as  to  the  property,  unless  he's  got 
some  hid  somewhere,  I  don't  think  that  in  his  shop  is  worth 
coming  after." 

"  Why  so  ?" 

"  There  can't  be  much  of  it  left.  The  boys  made  havoc 
with  his  old  den,  last  night." 

"  Did  they  ?  I  hadn't  heard  of  it.  Did  any  one  watch 
there  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  placed  a  good  man  there." 

"  And  he  didn't  appear  ?" 

"  I  am  informed  not." 

"  That  is  too  bad.  I  believe  you  are  right,  after  all,  and 
that  he  has  left  ;  so  I  shall  rest  much  easier." 


MK.      PIERCE     AND     MICH.  269 

"  You'd  better,  however,  be  a  little  careful,  and  ou  your 
guard,  because  he's  a  desperate  fellow." 

"  That  I  shall  be,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  left  and  went  to 
consult  once  more  with  his  friend  Pierce. 

"  Well,  doctor,"  said  the  attorney,  as  the  former  entered, 
"  so  you  didn't  entirely  succeed;  still  you  got  the  girl — that's 
the  great  point.  Sorry  I  couldn't  have  been  with  you,  but 
I  got  separated  at  the  shop  of  the  pawnbroker,  and  didn't 
observe  when  you  left ;  but  the  sheriff  has  told  me  all  about 
It,  this  morning.  Have  you  heard  how  they  served  his  shop  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  pity  they  hadn't  burnt  it  with  him  in  it,"  answered 
the  doctor. 

"  Exactly  what  I  thought  myself,  and  I  believe  they  would 
have  burnt  it,  had  it  not  been  for  the  danger  of  communica- 
ting to  the  neighboring  houses." 

"  Were  you  there  ?" 

"  I  may  confess  that  I  was  there,  and  saw  the  fun,  but, 
I  shall  not  criminate  myself  by  saying  anything  further," 
said  Mr.  Pierce,  laughing.  "  By  the  by,  how  is  the  child  ?" 
he  added. 

"  As  well  as  ever  ;  frightened  some,  but  she'll  soon  get 
over  it." 

"  Poor  thing,  it  must  have  been  a  terrible  situation  for 
her,  and  to  be  in  such  hands,  too." 

"  Yes  ;  I  was  afraid  it  might  produce  some  serious 
effect." 

"  The  sheriff  tells  me  that,  had  it  not  been  for  an  Irish 
lad  of  her  acquaintance,  he  should  not  have  found  her '- 


270     OLD     HATJN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  I  think  that  is  so." 

"  Who  is  the  boy  ?" 

"  He  is  employed  by  Doctor  Marsh,  iii  some  way,  but 
became  acquainted  with  my  ward  before  her  mother  died, 
and  comes  often  to  my  house  to  see  her  now.  He's  a  rare 
boy — active,  intelligent,  and  honest." 

"  How  came  he  there  at  that  time  of  night  ?"  said  the 
attorney,  curiously. 

"  I  went  myself  to  see  him  at  first  when  I  found  that  the 
child  was  missing,  and  so  he  came  down  with  me  and  insti- 
tuted a  search  on  his  own  account,  I  suppose,  but  in  fact,  I 
forgot  all  about  him,  and  haven't  thought  to  ask  him  since  ; 
but  I've  left  word  for  him  to  call  and  see  me,  and  I'll  inquire 
of  him  about  it ;  but  the  next  time  I  saw  him  was  down  on 
the  dock  ;  as  the  sheriff  and  I  were  groping  along  in  the 
darkness  he  discovered  us,  and  directed  us  to  the  very  spot. 
As  it  was,  I  had  some  difficulty  in  inducing  the  sheriff  to  be 
guided  by  him,  he  wanted  take  another  direction  ;  if  he  had, 
the  child  would  have  been  lost." 

"  It's  the  same  lad  that  you  spoke  to  me  about,  the  other 
day  in  connection  with  this  same  affair,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  It's  hard  for  me  to  recollect,  I've  had  so  much  in  my 
head  for  the  last  few  days,  but  I  presume  I  referred  to 
him." 

"  While  on  this  subject,  doctor,"  said  Mr.  Pierce,  slowly 
and  meditatively,  "do  you  know  whether  this  boy  is 
engaged  for  any  time  in  his  present  situation  ?" 

"  Can't  say  with  certainty,  but  I  don't  think  he  would 


ME.      PIEKCE     AND     MICH.  271 

wish  to  remain  if  he  could  find  anything  to  do  more  to  his 
taste." 

"  I've  been  thinking  since  you  spoke  of  him,  whether  I 
couldn't  engage  him  ;  I  need  some  one,  and  believe  he  might 
suit  me.  What  do  you  think  ?" 

"  Just  the  one,  Pierce  ;  couldn't  do  better,  the  fact  is, 
Mich  has  a  soul  above  holding  a  horse,  and  mere  menial 
employment.  I  think  he's  a  boy  of  promise,  young  as  he 
is,"  said  the  doctor,  warmly. 

"  When  you  see  him  again  then,  doctor,  just  sound  him, 
and  if  he'd  like  to  change  send  him  to  me,  and  I'll  talk  with 
him,  and  may  perhaps  be  able  to  do  something  if  he  shows 
himself  apt." 

"  I  will  do  it,  certainly.  I  wanted  to  inquire  about  when 
we  ought  to  expect  an  answer  from  New  Orleans." 

"  It  is  not  quite  time  yet,  but  we  shall  hear  before  long, 
you  may  rely  upon  it." 

"  I  have  a  mind  to  make  a  journey  myself  down  there  ;  I 
could  find  out  more  in  a  day  than  your  lawyers  can  in  a 
month." 

"You  are  mistaken,  doctor  ;  I  have  done  considerable 
business  with  the  firm,  and  have  always  found  them  prompt. 
So  rest  easy — it  would  be  very  imprudent  at  any  rate  for 
you  to  go  at  this  season,  even  if  it  were  necessary,  which  it 
is  not." 

"  Imprudent ;  why  so  ?" 

"I  refer  to  the  necessary  exposure  of  your  health  by 
going  there  during  the  warm  weather." 


272      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  That's  it,  eh  ;  I  think  I  should  be  able  to  take  care  of 
myself." 

"  That  may  be,  but  what  would  you  do  with  the  child  ? 
even  if  you  thought  proper  to  risk  your  own  health,  you 
have  no  right  to  expose  hers.  You  would  not,  of  course, 
think  of  taking  her  with  you  ?" 

"  Eight !  I  will  leave  the  matter  in  your  hands,  only 
drive  it  through." 

"  And  I  can  not  help  thinking,  doctor,  after  all,  that  we 
may  have  given  the  slight  ground  on  which  our  suspicions 
are  based  too  much  importance.  However,  time  will  deter- 
mine, I  shall  omit  nothing,"  said  the  attorney,  as  he  again 
resumed  his  writing,  which  had  been  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  the  doctor,  who  left  to  attend  to  his  own 
duties. 

At  as  early  an  hour  in  the  morning  as  he  could  absent  him- 
self from  his  usual  employment,  Mich  stood  before  the  door 
of  Doctor  Foster.  He  had  come  to  inquire  whether  all  had 
gone  well,  and  to  satisfy  himself  of  Anna's  continued  safety. 
He  was  greatly  disappointed  when  he  learned  that  she  had 
kft  so  early  in  the  morning,  and  turned  away  in  silence  to 
take  his  leave.  But  Biddy,  kind  soul,  called  him  back  to 
communicate  the  message  of  the  doctor,  and  it  tended  to 
raise  his  drooping  spirits,  and  to  lighten  the  pressure  upon 
his  heart.  He  returned  to  the  discharge  of  his  duties,  but 
his  thoughts  were  away.  He  thought  she  might  have  stayed 
at  home  long  enough  to  see  him,  and  wondered  where  she 
had  gone,  whom  she  would  see,  and  whether  she  would 


MB.      PIEBCE     AND     MICH.  273 

meet  any  one  else  to  like  better  than  himself — and  thus, 
even  unconsciously,  the  natural  selfishness  of  human  nature 
exhibited  itself. 

When  Mich  went,  however,  on  the  succeeding  day  to 
renew  his  call,  the  shade  of  jealousy  that  had  for  a  short 
time  rested  upon  his  spirit,  was  dissipated  by  the  glance  of 
Anna's  eye,  that  lighted  up  with  joy,  on  meeting  him  again 
— and  her  cordial  greeting  banished  his  half-formed  fears. 
She  was  delighted  to  see  him,  and  thanked  him  over  and 
over  again,  for  his  opportune  aid  in  rescuing  her.  She  also 
told  him  how  much  she  had  enjoyed  her  visit,  what  she  had 
done,  seen,  and  heard,  and  whom  she  had  met  and  become 
acquainted  with.  Mich  listened  attentively,  although  his 
faee  was  sad,  and  a  shade  of  vexation  would  flit  occasionally 
across  his  features,  and  finally,  when  she  stopped  for  a 
moment,  Mich  replied : 

"Well,  Anna,  I'm  thinking  ye'll  not  care  to  see  me  so 
often  now,  ye've  got  so  many  new  frinds  ?" 

"  Why  !  Mich,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  she  inquired,  quickly, 
and  looking  with  earnestness  into  his  face. 

"  In  fa'th  an'  I  mane  ye'll  not  be  wantin'  to  waste  ye're 
time  on  a  poor  folk  like  meself  when  ye  have  so  many  new 
frinds." 

"  Now,  Mich  1  you  know  that's  not  so.  I  shall  be  just  as 
glad  to  see  you  now  as  I  always  have  been — why  shouldn't 
I?" 

"  It's  the  way  wid  the  grand  folk,  and  ye're  not  to  blame 
for  it,"  at  swered  Mich,  as  he  turned  his  face  resolutely  away. 

12* 


274      OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

'•'  Mich,"  exclaimed  Anna,  with  a  quivering  iipas  the  tears 
came  to  her  eyes.  She  could  say  no  more,  but  hid  her  face 
in  her  hands  and  sobbed.  She  felt  so  hnrt,  so  disappointed 
at  witnessing  the  strange  and  unusual  manner  and  tone  of 
Mich.  She  had  been  anxious  to  see  him  after  the  dangers 
she  had  escaped. 

Mich  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  endeavored  manfully 
to  maintain  his  composure  and  not  exhibit  any  weakness, 
while  his  face  flushed  and  paled  alternately  with  the  emotion 
that  was  struggling  within  him,  and  then  he  went  up  to  her 
and  drawing  her  hands  from  her  face,  said  in  a  trembling 
voice  : 

"  Stop,  now,  Anna,  won't  ye  ?" 

"  Mich,  you  ought  not  to  say  that,  when  you  know  that  I 
do  care  for  you,  and  you've  always  been  so  kind  when  I  had 
no  one  else  to  help  me." 

"  Well  thin  don't  spake  of  it  ;  I  did'nt  mane  to  hurt  ye're 
feelins',  but  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"  Why  not,  Mich  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  meself,  sometimes  I  feel  so  quare  like,  an' 
so  lonesome  I  can't  contint  meself,  an'  me  mother's  gettin'  so 
wakely,  that  I'm  always  a  fearin'  she'll  go  off  and  lave  me 
alone  in  the  wide  world,  but  if  I  could  know  that  ye  were 
still  me  frind,  I  could  keep  a  brave  heart." 

"  Mich,  don't  talk  so  ;  you  make  me  feel  bad.  You 
must'nt  think  so  much  about  her,  because  when  you  get  the 
other  place  you'll  be  able  to  do  more  for  her." 

"  What's  the  place  ye  mane  ?-' 


MB.      PIBKCB     AND     MICH.  275 

"  Did'nt  the  doctor  tell  you  about  Mr.  Pierce  wanting  to 
Bee  you  ?" 

"  Niver  a  word,  buc  I  hav'nt  seen  the  docthor  since  the 
last  night.  What  did  he  want  of  me  ?" 

"  I  think  he  wanted  you  to  come  and  live  with  him — but 
I'll  ask  the  doctor.  He's  a  lawyer — I  heard  the  doctor  say 
so.  I  should  think  you  would  rather  live  with  him  than  hold 
a  horse." 

Mich  colored  slightly,  at  the  unthinking  allusion  to  his 
occupation,  but  replied  : 

"  Indade,  an'  I  would  that  same.  It's  only  for  want  of  a 
bether  place  that  I'm  there  at  all.  Where  does  he  live  ? 
I'll  go  the  minute." 

"  You'd  better  wait  for  the  doctor,  and  perhaps  he'll  go 
with  you,  and  he'll  tell  you  all  about  it,  too." 

"  Well,  I'd  bether  be  goin'  now,  and  comin'  this  afther- 
noon  to  spake  with  the  docthor  ;  so  good  by.  I  cannot 
stay  now,  for  mabee  I'll  be  wanted." 

Without  waiting  longer,  Mich  seized  his  cap,  and  darted  off. 

In  the  afternoon,  true  to  his  engagement,  he  called  on 
Doctor  Foster,  who  explained  to  him  the  duties  that  would 
be  required  of  him  in  the  new  situation,  advised  him  freely 
and  frankly  not  to  fail  to  secure  the  place,  and  offered  to  go 
with  him  to  Mr.  Pierce's  office  at  once,  to  arrange  the  mat- 
ter. Mich  gladly  accepted  the  proposition,  and  accompanied 
the  doctor.  Terms  were  soon  settled,  and  Mich  agreed  to 
enter  into  the  service  of  the  attorney,  as  soon  as  he  could 
obtain  a  release  from  his  engagement  with  his  present  em« 


276      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBBOKEB. 

ployer  In  this  there  was  but  little  difficulty,  and  although 
Doctor  Marsh  would  have  gladly  retained  him,  yet,  con- 
scious that  the  change  was  to  Mich's  advantage,  he  generous- 
ly consented  to  forego  any  private  considerations  of  interest 
or  convenience,  and  to  consent  to  the  change.  Mich  left 
with  regret  his  old  employer,  but  immediately  entered  with 
zeal  upon  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  his  new  situation. 

As  tune  passed  on,  although  no  tidings  of  Haun  could  be 
obtained,  still  Doctor  Foster  did  not  feel  secure.  He  could 
not  give  himself  up,  with  his  usual  devotedness,  to  the  cares 
of  his  profession.  There  seemed  to  be  some  evil  impending. 
His  mind  was  distracted.  He  could  not  feel  sure,  on  return- 
ing home  at  night,  of  finding  all  things  safe  ;  and  therefore, 
as  this  indefinable  dread  seemed  to  increase  upon  him,  and 
to  weigh  upon  his  spirits,  he  determined  to  absent  himself 
for  a  tune  from  the  city,  and  from  the  duties  of  his  profession, 
hoping  that  his  mind  would  thereby  regain  its  accustomed 
tone  and  elasticity,  and  trusting  also  that  on  his  return, 
after  a  few  weeks  absence,  he  should  be  able  to  obtain  some 
certain  information  of  the  whereabouts  of  the  one  to  whose 
machinations  he  had  been  subject,  and  who  had  so  inter- 
rupted the  even  tenor  of  his  life. 

He  resolved,  during  the  few  weeks  of  hot  weather,  to 
leave  the  city  and  take  his  ward  with  him  into  the  country. 
This  he  felt  that  he  might  consistently  do,  as  for  years  he  had 
borne  the  heat  and  burthen  of  the  day,  year  in  and  year  out, 
toiling  on  in  the  regular  routine  of  his  duties,  unceasingly 
and  uncomplainingly,  without  once  deserting  his  post  to  seek 


MR.     PIEKCE     AND     MICH.  277 

his  own  amusement  and  recreation.  Now  he  resolved  that 
he  would  go.  The  interest  of  another  was  at  stake.  He 
might  have  willingly  sacrificed  himself  if  necessary,  but  now 
a  higher  obligation  was  resting  upon  him. 

On  returning  to  his  house,  the  doctor  communicated  to 
Anna  his  determination,  much  to  her  delight,  and  desired  her 
to  prepare  her  wardrobe  and  hold  herself  in  readiness  for 
the  morrow.  She  ran  to  inform  Biddy  of  the  pleasure  in 
store  for  her,  and  waited  with  impatience  for  the  morrow. 
The  morrow  finally  came,  and  with  it  a  bright  sunny  morn- 
ing. All  necessary  preparation  having  been  completed,  they 
bade  good  by  to  Biddy,  left  her  sole  mistress  of  the  man- 
sion, and  departed. 

The  boat  floated  like  a  swan  upon  the  water,  while  the 
ripples  played  in  the  sunlight,  and  soon  it  glided  away  and 
moved  gracefully  from  its  moorings.  Their  first  destination 
was  Albany,  where  they  arrived  in  due  course  of  time. 
From  Albany  they  wandered  off  into  the  northern  portion 
of  the  State,  just  where  fancy  led  them,  avoiding  as  much 
as  possible  the  dust  and  sweltering  heat  of  cities,  and  tarry- 
ing in  quiet  villages,  or  stopping  in  search  of  enjoyment 
where  nature  was  yet  free  from  the  handicraft  of  man. 

Thus  a  month  passed  in  perfect  freedom  from  the  restraint 
and  carelessness  of  the  morrow,  till  the  doctor  was  admonish- 
ed of  the  lapse  of  time,  and  warned  to  turn  his  face  home- 
ward. He  still,  however,  lingered,  anxious  for  a  little  while 
longer  to  commune  with  nature,  but  finally  bursting  from 
the  thraldom  that  to  him  was  so  pleasant,  started  in  earnes. 


278      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

for  home.  And  now  his  anxiety  to  return,  to  recommence 
active  business,  to  see  his  home,  to  mix  in  the  din  and 
bustle  of  life-,  was  quite  as  great  as  it  had  once  been  to 
escape.  He  was  impatient  of  the  slow  progress  they  were 
making.  But  in  due  time  the  tall  spires  of  the  city  glad- 
dened his  sight,  and  soon  thereafter  he  stood  before  his 
own  door. 

Biddy  welcomed  them  with  a  hearty  good  will,  and 
hastened  to  make  all  things  ready  for  their  reception,  after 
their  long  absence. 

They  had  hardly  become  rested,  after  the  fatigue  of 
travelling,  when  Mich  made  his  appearance",  and  his  greet- 
ing was  cordially  returned.  Anna  related  to  him  her  won- 
derful experience  of  the  past  month,  while  he  mentioned  the 
great  change  that  had  been  wrought  in  his  fortunes  since 
their  departure.  It  was  a  change,  indeed,  and  one  which 
was  to  influence  his  whole  life  ;  the  advantage  was  not  iii 
the  increased  compensation,  but  in  the  opportunities  which 
he  would  enjoy  for  study  and  improvement.  His  employer 
soon  discovered  that  Mich  was  no  common  boy.  He  had 
observed  him,  when  released  from  other  duties,  quietly  and 
unobtrusively  retire  to  a  corner,  and  drawing  a  well-worn 
book  from  his  pocket,  silently  and  attentively  scan  its  pages. 
He  saw  that  he  had  an  inquiring  mind  and  a  retentive 
memory,  and  was  quick  to  understand  and  comprehend.  He 
found  him  active  and  industrious,  and,  above  all,  trustwor- 
thy, and  became  interested  in  him.  On  a  certain  occasion, 
observing  Mich  with  his  book  in  his  hand  Mr.  Pierce 


MR.      PIEKCE     AND     MICH. 

inquired  of  him  what  he  was  reading  ;  and  Mich  looking 
up,  as  he  found  Mr.  Pierce's  keen  eyes  fixed  upon  him, 
hesitatingly  replied  : 

"  It's  a  history,  sir." 

"  A  history !  of  what  ?" 

"  Of  yer  own  counthry,  sir." 

"  Where  did  you  learn  to  read  ?" 

"  At  the  school,  mainly,  sir." 

"  Have  you  been  much  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  not  a  great  dale  ;  me  father  got  too  poor  to 
bear  the  expense,  and  so  I  had  to  learn  at  home  when  I 
could  get  time." 

"  Would  you  like  to  have  an  education  ?" 

"  Indade,  sir,  it's  the  wish  of  me  heart ;  but  there's  no 
use  thinkin'  of  it,  sir,  me  mother's  got  so  wakely  since  she's 
had  to  work  to  earn  her  bread,  that  I'm  forced  to  save 
everything  I  can  spare  to  give  it  to  her;  but  if  ye've  nothin' 
forninst  it,  I  should  be  glad  to  rade  by  meself,  when  ye've 
nothing  for  me  to  do,  sir." 

"  No,  I  have  nothing  against  it,  and  should  be  glad  to 
have  you  improve  your  time.  Have  you  no  other  book  but 
this  ?" 

"  Notbin'  to  spake  of,  sir ;  this  was  a  prisint  to  me, 
sir." 

"  How  long  did  you  say  you  had  studied  by  yourself?" 
Mr.  Pierce  continued. 

"  It  might  be  the  matter  of  a  twelvemomth,  or  so,  sir." 

"  Can  you  write  ?" 


280        OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Yes,  sir,  after  a  fashion." 

"  Let  me  see  you  write  your  name." 

Mich  did  as  desired,  and  Mr.  Pierce  was  as  much  grati- 
fied as  surprised,  to  see  his  progress  in  chirography.  After 
sitting  for  a  few  minutes  in  thought,  Mr.  Pierce  said,  as  he 
gazed  with  satisfaction  into  Mich's  intelligent  face  : 

"  Mich,  how  would  you  like  to  be  a  lawyer  ?" 

"  How  would  I  like  it,  sir  ?"  Mich  answered,  starting  np, 
enthusiastically,  but  immediately  sank  back,  despairingly,  as 
he  continued  :  "  but  that's  not  for  the  likes  of  me,  sir." 

"  And  why  not  ?  you  are  young  yet ;  there's  time  enough 
for  you  to  get  a  good  education." 

"  Indade,  ye're  jesting  wid  me  ;  where'd  I  get  the  money 
to  pay  for  it  ?" 

"  You  don't  need  a  great  deal  of  money.  Study  by  your- 
self, as  you  are  now  doing,  and  if  you  are  really  earnest  in 
your  wish  to  obtain  an  education,  there'll  be  no  great  diffi- 
culty. It  is  perseverance  and  patience  that  overcome  all 
obstacles,  and  I  might  be  willing  to  assist  you  some,  but 
think  of  it  well,  and  make  up  your  mind  to  persevere  or  not 
to  commence." 

"  I'd  be  only  too  willin',  but  what  would  me  mother  do 
for  a  shelter  for  her  head,  and  clothes,  too,  in  the  long 
years  I'd  be  laming  it  all,  sir  ?" 

"  Your  mother,  eh  ?  well  1  well  1  let  me  think.  You're 
right,  Mich,  in  remembering  your  mother,  let  her  always  be 
first  in  your  t  loughts  ;  but  what  can  she  do  ?  Can  she 
sew  nicely  T' 


ME.     FIERCE     AND     MICH.  281 

"  Indade,  she  can,  sir.  She  learned  it  all  in  the  ould 
counthry  ;  but  it's  any  kind  of  work  she's  been  thankful  to 
get,  to  kape  us  from  starvin',  since  Jonny  died." 

"  If  she  could  only  get  some  permanent  situation  or  em- 
ployment, it  would  be  much  better  for  both  of  you,  and  then 
you  could  use  the  little  you  earn  for  yourself.  There  are 
places  enough  that  she  could  get,  if  she  were  only  recom- 
mended. You  talk  with  her  this  evening,  and  if  she  would 
like  to  engage  in  such  occupation,  I  think  I  can  help  her  to 
find  work  enough." 

"  Ye're  very  kind,  sir  ;  I'll  spake  wid  me  mother,  but  I'm 
afraid  it's  the  pride  '11  kape  her  from  going  to  service.  She 
niver  did  it  in  the  ould  counthry." 

"  Mich,  I  don't  think  your  mother  would  be  so  foolish  as 
to  reject  any  honorable  employment  that  would  give  her  a 
livelihood.  Service  here  is  looked  upon  differently  from 
what  it  is  in  your  native  country.  She  need  not  necessarily 
be  a  servant.  She  would  not  be  obliged  to  do  the  menial 
work  that  she  does  now,  but  would  be  in  a  comfortable 
home  and  be  well  treated,  besides  receiving  good  wages 
if  she  secures  a  place,  as  I  am  sure  she  can." 

"  I  make  no  doubt  she'd  be  glad  to  get  such  a  place  as 
ye  spake  of,  and  I'll  mintion  it  to  her  this  evening." 

"  Very  well,  we'll  let  the  matter  rest  then  for  the  pre- 
sent," said  Mr.  Pierce,  as  he  resumed  his  writing,  and  Mich 
retired  to  a  corner  with  his  book,  but  involuntarily  his  eyes 
would  wander  away.  He  could  not  keep  his  mind  upon  it. 
Years  of  toil  and  study  wen  before  him — but  with  his 


282      OLD     HA.  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

vigorous  efforts  obstacles  vanished.  He  looked  into  the 
future,  he  saw  himself  changed  from  the  friendless  youth 
into  the  favored  of  fortuae.  He  then  fixed  his  eyes  upon  a 
goal  far  distant  in  the  future,  and  in  his  aftercourse  never 
once  swerved  or  faltered  till  that  goal  was  won. 

But  as  Mich  looked  at  his  future  self  in  imagination,  he 
could  not  help  looking  at  his  present  self,  in  fact,  and  he 
unconsciously  drew  a  long  breath  and  sighed. 

Mr.  Pierce  heard  the  sigh  and  involuntarily  turned  and 
looked  at  him,  attracted  by  the  expression  of  Mich's  coun- 
tenance. He  himself  had  been  once  poor,  and  obliged  to 
depend  upon  his  personal  exertions  to  obtain  his  profession, 
and  he  could  sympathize  with  Mich  in  his  earnest  longings 
to  obtain  that  which  now  seemed  so  much  beyond  his  reach. 
And  as  he  looked  upon  the  finely  formed  features  of  the  lad, 
and  noted  the  expression  of  intelligence,  he  felt  confident 
that  Mich  would  grow  in  favor  ;  and  that  the  efforts  that  he 
himself  might  be  disposed  to  make  for  Mich's  advancement 
and  improvement,  would  not  be  misplaced. 

Mr.  Pierce  had  more  in  his  mind  that  he  had  chosen  to 
communicate  to  Mich,  but  on  his  return  to  his  home  in  the 
evening,  stated  his  wishes  to  his  wife  and  consulted  with  her 
concerning  the  propriety  and  expediency  of  offering  to  Mrs. 
Lynch  a  place  in  their  own  family  as  seamstress,  if,  upon 
seeing  her  they  should  be  pleased  with  her  appearance. 
Mrs.  Pierce  was  in  feeble  health,  having  been  for  years  an 
invalid,  and  at  once  adopted  the  suggestion.  She  desired 
one  who  should  not  only  do  the  work  assigned,  mechanically, 


MK.      PIEKCE     AND     MICH.  283 

but  who  had  age  and  experience  sufficient  to  merit  confi- 
dence in  other  domestic  departments.  It  was  with  a  view 
to  this  arrangement  that  Mr.  Pierce  had  proposed  the  matter 
to  Mich,  and  the  next  morning,  when  the  latter  appeared 
with  his  mother,  preliminaries  were  soon  settled,  and  Mrs. 
Lynch  prepared  at  once  to  become  an  inmate  of  Mr.  Pierce's 
family  in  the  capacity  indicated  to  her. 

Mich  progressed  rapidly,  in  familiarizing  himself  with  the 
minor  and  less  important  details  of  business  which  were, 
after  a  little,  entirely  given  up  to  him.  He  applied  himself 
closely,  studied  hard,  and  remembered  what  he  heard  and 
read,  and  by  the  time  the  doctor  and  Anna  returned  from 
their  northern  tour,  had  become  quite  at  home  in  his  new 
situation 


284      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


THE    ENCOUNTER. 


AN  answer  had  been  received  by  Mr.  Pierce  from  his 
correspondent  at  New  Orleans,  during  the  absence  of  Doc- 
tor Foster,  and  he  hastened  to  communicate  to  the  latter, 
on  his  return,  the  contents  of  the  letter.  It  was  as  follows: 


"  NEW  ORLKANS,  A'nguat.  8,  18  — 
"  DANIEL  PIERCE,  Esq.,  New  York. 

"  DEAR  SIR  :  Your  favor  of  14th  ult.,  was  received  yesterday. 
I  find  that  a  person  by  the  name  of  William  Leonard,  and  answering 
your  description,  died  during  the  month  of  February  last.  He  left 
quite  a  fortune,  which,  from  the  failure  of  direct  heirs,  has  reverted 
to  a  relative  by  the  name  of  James  Cornell.  He  is  a  wild  and  reck- 
less young  man.  This  is  all  that  we  have  been  able  to  learn  thus  far, 
but  we  will  write  again  soon. 

"  Your  obedient  servants, 

"LE  ROT  &  BARNES." 

"Plain  enough  —  that's  her  uncle,  I  am  sure.     Pierce, 
don't  you  think  the  mystery's  being  unravelled  ?" 

"  Why,    yes,   I  think  so,     I  have  no  doubt  that  the 


THE     ENCOUNTEB.  285 

William  Leonard,  who  is  said  to  have  died  there,  is  the 
identical  uncle  of  your  ward,  and  that  the  property  he  left 
rightfully  belongs  to  her." 

"  She  shall  have  it,  then,  if  my  life  is  spared." 

"  It  is  easy  to  say  it,  but,  you  know,  possession  is  nine 
points  of  the  law,  and  we  shall  not  be  able  to  obtain  it 
without  considerable  difficulty,  although  I  should  imagine 
we  might  easily  show  her  identity,  and,  besides,  this  Cornell 
may  have  come  into  possession  legally :  you  see  he  is 
spoken  of  as  a  relative." 

'  How  can  that  be  ?" 

"  William  Leonard  may  have  devised  it  to  him  ;  the  fact 
that  Leonard  was  at  variance  with  his  sister,  would  incline 
one  to  think  so." 

"  Don't  believe  it.  It  is  not  natural  that  one  should  for- 
get his  own  blood,  and  give  all  he  has  to  strangers." 

"  He  may  have  supposed  his  nearer  relatives  dead  ;  and 
then,  again,  possibly  this  Cornell  who  is  spoken  of,  may  be 
quite  as  nearly  related  as  your  ward." 

"  May  be,"  said  the  doctor,  contemptuously.  "  I  have 
never  heard  his  name  before,  at  any  rate,  and  I  know  some- 
thing of  the  family." 

"  Never  mind,  the  truth  can  be  easily  ascertained :  J  pre- 
sume we  shall  soon  hear  from  New  Orleans  again,  and  you 
see  this  letter  was  written  soon  after  mine  was  received. 
But,  doctor,  what  do  you  propose  doing  ?" 

"  I  intend  the  child  shall  have  all  that  rightfully  belongs 
to  her." 


286      OLD     HAUK,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  That,  undoubtedly;  but  I  meau  what  course  do  you 
propose  to  take  ?" 

"  That  I  leave  to  you  to  advise,  sir." 

"  We  must  be  sure  of  our  ground  before  we  commence 
anything,  as,  if  we  are  to  go  into  litigation,  it  may  be  a 
rather  expensive  proceeding." 

"  What  do  I  care  for  that  ?  I've  got  enough  and  to 
spare,  and  the  child  shall  not  be  wronged." 

"  A  good  principle,  undoubtedly,  but  we  must  use  discre- 
tion and  have  patience  ;  for  I  assure  you,  doctor,  affairs  of 
this  kind,  are  oftener  things  of  eternity  than  of  time. 
Although,  as  I  remarked,  I  see  no  good  reason  why  we  may 
not  in  this  case  soon  get  to  the  truth  of  the  matter." 

"Well,  then,  don't  let  us  delay.  What  is  to  be  first 
done  ?" 

"  I  will  write  again  to  Le  Roy  &  Barnes,  stating  fully 
the  particulars  of  the  case,  and  asking  full  details  from 
them." 

"Do  it  at  once,  then  ;  but,  if  anything  should  unex- 
pectedly come  to  your  knowledge,  don't  fail  to  communi- 
cate," said  the  doctor,  as  he  left  the  office. 

Mr.  Pierce  immediately  wrote  again  to  his  correspondents 
in  New  Orleans,  giving  them  further  information  and  desir- 
ing them  to  institute  a  thorough  investigation  of  the  whole 
matter,  with  a  view  to  the  commencement  of  legal  proceed- 
ings to  oust  Cornell  from  the  property,  in  case  there  should 
be  sufficient  grounds  for  believing  him  unlawfully  in  posses- 
sion, and  sufficient  legal  evidence  to  maintain  an  action. 


THE     ENCOUNTER.  287 

Let  us  uow  return  for  awhile  to  Hauu,  wnom  we  saw 
after  his  perilous  escape,  and  numerous  trials  and  tribula- 
tions, finally  safe  on  board  of  a  vessel  bound  for  Havana. 
His  wig  had  received  some  damage  in  his  rapid  flight  from 
the  hands  of  the  officer,  and  the  grey  locks  had  become 
slightly  dishevelled,  so  that  possibly  thinking  it  unbecoming 
to  his  style  of  beauty,  he  slily  set  it  afloat  upon  the 
water,  and  watched  it  bobbing  up  and  down  on  the  crests  of 
the  waves,  like  the  head  of  a  garrulous  old  man,  till  it 
faded  into  a  mere  speck,  and  was  lost  to  view. 

The  voyage  was  stormy,  and  his  sufferings  were  not  only 
mentally  but  physically  great.  And  when  nearly  ended, 
Haun,  albeit  somewhat  reduced  in  flesh,  and  his  ugliness 
not  a  whit  improved,  was  glad  to  see  once  more  the  blue 
line  of  mist  in  the  distance  showing  that  land  was  near. 

But  his  journeying  was  not  yet  ended,  his  sufferings  not 
yet  begun.  Like  Noah's  weary  dove,  he  had  no  abiding 
place  away  from  New  Orleans ;  that  was  his  destination  ; 
there  he  wouM  go,  and  he  went. 

Tremblingly,  fearfully  he  launched  again  upon  the  waters, 
for  he  had  a  hydrophobiacal  fear  of  the  element,  and  during 
his  first  voyage  had  done  penance  enough  to  atone  for  a 
multitude  of  sins,  but  the  second  was  attended  with  less 
uneasiness  and  disquietude,  and  was,  therefore,  more  agree- 
able to  him.  But  fortune  again  favored  him,  or  rather  in 
spite  of  fortune  he  landed  in  due  time  in  New  Orleans,  and 
the  haven  of  his  hope  was  won. 

Hauu  proceeded,  soon  after  his  arrival,  to  seek  out  the 


288      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

residence  of  Cornell,  but  to  his  great  regret  the  latter  was 
temporarily  absent  from  the  city,  although  expected  back 
in  a  few  days. 

He  surveyed  the  costly  residence  of  Cornell,  and  examined 
the  luxurious  appliances  which  use  and  habit  had  made 
necessary,  evidences  of  reckless  extravagance,  and  he  smiled 
sardonically,  for  it  gave  him  confidence.  If  Cornell  had 
been  found  living  in  humble  style  and  plodding  economically 
along,  Haun  would  have  had  less  confidence  of  success  in  the 
scheme  which  he  had  matured.  It  was  not,  however,  with- 
out alarm  that  he  recollected  the  loss  of  his  coat  and  the 
package  of  papers  ;  but  on  examining  a  private  pocket,  hi 
which  he  was  accustomed  to  carry  his  more  valuable  papers, 
he  had  found  the  one  he  needed  safe. 

"He  depended,  nevertheless,  more  upon  the  knowledge 
of  Cornell's  private  matters,  which  he  had  ob tamed,  to  inti- 
midate or  persuade,  rather  than  to  avail  himself  of  any 
coercive  measures. 

But  as  he  could  do  nothing  towards  the  advancement  of 
his  object  until  Cornell's  return,  he  cast  about  him  for  any 
little  opportunities  that  might  providentially  present  them- 
selves for  him  to  turn  an  honest  penny,  for  he  could  not 
endure  idleness,  nor  bear  inactivity. 

However,  the  month  of  September  had  nearly  worn  away, 
and  Haun  had  waited  impatiently,  when  on  a  certain  day, 
as  he  strolled  listlessly  past  the  house  of  Cornell,  as  was  his 
regular  custom,  occasionally  casting  an  eye  up  to  the  win- 
dows, to  discover,  if  possible,  some  familiar  face,  his  atten- 


THE     ENCOUNTER.  289 

tion  was  arrested  by  the  rattling  of  wheels,  and  turning  to 
look,  a  carriage  richly  decorated  stopped  at  the  door,  and 
Cornell,  leaping  from  it,  hastened  into  the  house.  Haun 
recognized  him  on  the  instant,  and  partly  stopped,  and 
debated  in  his  own  mind,  whether  he  should  enter  and  seek 
an  interview  at  once,  or  wait  until  the  morrow.  He  deter- 
mined to  wait,  and  taking  another  long  look  at  the  house 
and  the  carriage,  walked  hastily  on,  and  sought  his  own 
lodging. 

At  a  late  hour  of  the  morning,  Haun  prepared  for  an  inter- 
view with  Cornell.  He  had  thought  over  the  matter  during 
the  night,  and  concluded  that  with  the  available  force  that 
he  had  at  his  command,  diplomacy  was  his  only  resort.  His 
strength  was  now  a  forlorn  hope.  So  long  as  he  had  pos- 
session of  the  person  of  the  legal  heir,  he  considered  his 
position  impregnable  ;  but  the  storms  of  adversity  had 
shaken  it,  and  now  he  came  with  the  simple  written  acknow- 
ledgment of  Cornell,  and  hoped  with  that  alone  to  force  a 
submission  to  the  terms  which  he  might  dictate. 

Haun  went  boldly  to  the  door.  He  had  taken  some 
pains  to  improve  his  outer  man,  and  had  doffed  the  sombre 
garb  and  formal  cut  of  the  Quaker,  in  which  dress  he  had 
made  his  exit  from  New  York,  and  had  patronized  a  dealer 
in  second-hand  clothes,  from  whom  he  had  purchased  a  suit 
of  black.  He  had  also,  in  the  excess  of  his  prodigality, 
bought,  at  a  great  bargain,  a  white  cravat,  so  that  he 
might,  in  his  new  dress,  have  been  taken  by  the  superficial 

IB 


290      OLD     HATTN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

observer  as  the  shepherd  of  a  flock,  rather  than  what  he 
really  was,  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing. 

The  door  was  quickly  opened  by  a  servant  in  nature's 
livery,  from  whose  face  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun  glanced, 
as  he  politely  desired  to  know  the  pleasure  of  the  visitor. 

Haun  replied  by  asking,  if  his  master  was  at  home  and 
expressing  a  wish  to  see  him.  He  was  informed  that 
Cornell  had  not  yet  come  down  from  his  room,  and  was 
invited  to  take  a  seat,  while  the  servant  would  present  his 
name  and  learn  whether  his  master  wished  to  be  seen.  But 
Haun  had  no  idea  of  having  his  name  heralded  hi  advance 
of  himself,  and  thus  perhaps,  run  the  risk  of  being  refused 
an  audience  ;  and  therefore,  saying  to  the  servant  that  it 
was  all  right — that  his  master  was  waiting  for  him — told 
him  to  lead  the  way.  The  servant  reluctantly  and  hesitat- 
ingly complied  ;  and  closely  followed  by  Haun,  proceeded  to 
his  master's  room,  and  rapping  gently,  opened  the  door  ;  but 
before  he  had  time  to  speak,  Haun  pushed  rudely  past  him, 
and  entered. 

Cornell,  with  a  lighted  cigar  between  his  lips,  was  reclin- 
ing luxuriously  upon  a  sofa,  and  watching  the  smoke  as  it 
gently  rose  and  wreathed  itself  above  his  head.  But  at  the 
sound,  he  indolently  turned  his  eyes  towards  the  door,  and 
catching  an  imperfect  view  of  the  intruder,  turned  still 
farther  to  look,  and  then  as  he  permitted  his  lighted  cigar 
to  fall  unnoticed  upon  the  floor,  abruptly  rose  and  stood 
face  to  face  with  his  old  acquaintance  the  pawnbroker. 


THE     ENCOUNTER.  291 

The  blood  for  an  instant  left  Cornell's  face,  and  then 
returned  again  as  he  attempted  to  smile,  but  the  smile 
degenerated  into  a  convulsive  distortion  of  his  features  ;  and 
he  advanced  a  few  steps  and  extended  his  hand,  exclaiming, 
with  pretended  warmth : 

"  Haun  1  is  it  possible  ?" 

"  It's  no  other,"  Haun  answered,  confidently. 

"  When  did  you  come  ?" 

"  Not  long  ago,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

"  How  did  you  leave  all  of  our  friends  ?"  continued 
Cornell,  with  a  meaning  emphasis  on  the  last  word. 

"All  that  you  feel  any  interest  in  are  well,"  answered 
Haun,  maliciously — and  then  added  after  a  pause,  "  perhaps 
you  didn't  expect  me  here." 

"  Yes,  I  received  your  letter." 

"  Then,  as  you  know  my  object  in  coming,  we  had  better 
proceed  to  business  at  once." 

"As  well  now  as  at  any  time.  But  what  is  it  that  you 
want  ?" 

"  You  know  our  bargain." 

"  I  haven't  forgotten  it." 

"  Nor  the  written  agreement  you  executed  ?" 

"  Certainly  not,  nor  anything  else  connected  with  it,  so 
go  on  ?" 

"  Then,  as  your  memory  is  so  good  we'll  spend  no  time 
in  preliminaries — I  came  on  business." 

"  So  I  suppose,  or  else  I  should  have  directed  my  servant 


292      OLD     BAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

to  show  you  the  door,"  replied  Cornell,  in  his  nsual  noncha- 
lant manner. 

"  You'd  better  not  be  too  hasty." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  to  advise — come,  what  do  you 
wish  of  me  ?" 

"  You  remember  the  bond  you  executed  ?" 

"  I  believe  I  have  just  mentioned  to  you  that  I  do,  shall  I 
say  it  again  ?" 

"  That  bond  was  for  the  payment  of  ten  thousand 
dollars." 

'  I  haven't  forgotten  that  either,  now  if  you've  got  any- 
thing farther  to  say,  why  say  it  ?" 

"  I  will  ;  I  am  in  want  of  money." 

"  Undoubtedly !  I  never  knew  a  tune  when  you  were 
not." 

"  And  I  must  have  it." 

"  That  is,  if  you  can  get  it." 

"  Are  you  prepared  to  pay  me  the  ten  thousand  dollars  ?" 

"  Now  you  begin  to  come  to  the  point :  you  recollect  the 
letter  that  you  wrote,  informing  me  you  had  discovered  the 
child  and  had  her  under  your  control,  and  should  as  guar- 
dian enforce  her  claim,  and  that  you  released  me  from  my 
obligation  as  you  preferred  to  take  the  whole  to  a  part. 
Now,  sir,  do  you  suppose  that  I  shall  pay  you  this  amount 
for  nothing  ?  No,  sir." 

"  You  had  better  consider  well  before  making  up  your 
mind,  as  you  might  want  to  change  when  too  late." 


THE     ENCOUNTER.  293 

"  I  tell  you  again,  don't  advise  ine  ;  when  I  am  in  want  of 
advice  from  you  I'll  ask  for  it.  I  have  considered.  There 
was  a  time  when  I  was  willing  to  pay  you  the  amount,  and 
it's  not  long  since  either,  but  I  am  wiser  now,  and  have  only 
to  say  that  if  you  wish  payment  of  the  bond,  you  must  find 
a  way  to  get  it." 

"I  will  find  a  way,  and  that  sooner  than  you  expect  ; 
you  shall  be  turned  out  of  your  own  doors  into  the  street, 
and  the  legal  heir  shall  claim  her  own,  mark  my  words." 

"  Legal  heir  !  where  is  she  ?  Why  don't  you  produce  her, 
man  ?  You  said  you  would.  I  wonder  that  you'll  conde- 
scend to  beg  when  you  have  such  power  in  your  hands.  I 
Lave  less  faith  in  you  now  than  ever.  In  other  words,  man, 
I  believe  you  lie." 

"  You  will  repent  your  words,  the  longest  day  you 
live,"  said  Haun,  while  his  face  became  livid  with  sup- 
pressed rage. 

"  That  may  be,"  Cornell  answered,  "  but  there'll  be  time 
enough  for  repentance  when  there's  cause  for  it." 

"  There's  cause  for  it  now,  as  you'll  find  to  your  sorrow  ; 
there's  cause  for  it  so  long  as  I  have  in  my  possession  this 
instrument,"  said  Haun,  as  he  drew  from  his  pocket  the 
bond  executed  by  Cornell,  and  shook  it  before  his  eyes. 
"  This  shall  publish  to  the  world  the  nefarious  bargain  by 
which  you  have  wronged  a  child  :  before  to-morrow  night 
your  name  shall  be  posted  on  the  corners  of  the  street." 

"  You  dare  not  do  it  I"  exclaimed  Cornell,  approaching 
Haun  and  glaring  upon  him.  Haun  sat  unmoved,  but 


294:        OLD     HAUNj     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

the  firmly  closed  lips  and  the  unshrinking  eye  that  returned 
Cornell's  look,  told  plainly  the  desperate  passions  that  were 
at  work.  After  a  moment's  pause,  as  if  controlling  himself 
with  an  effort,  Haun  said,  in  a  calm  voice,  "  Cornell,  you 
ought  to  have  learned  by  this  time  that  I  am  not  a  man  to 
be  trifled  with.  Now,  I  have  come  from  New  York  for  the 
purpose  of  receiving  my  share  of  the  profits  of  our  joint 
speculation — this  I  must  have  ;  therefore,  once  for  all  I 
ask  you,  will  you  pay  me  the  amount  agreed  upon,  willingly 
or  not  ?" 

"  No,  I  will  not,"  said  Cornell,  violently. 

"  Then  take  the  consequences,"  Haun  replied,  as  he  arose 
and  attempted  to  pass  Cornell,  with  the  intention  of  leaving 
the  house. 

"  Damned  villain,  would  you  betray  me  ?"  shouted  Cor- 
nell, as  he  sprang  lightly  before  Haun,  and  intercepted  his 
passage  through  the  door.  Haun  pushed  him  roughly 
aside  and  strode  on,  but  Cornell,  grasping  him  by  the 
throat,  exclaimed,  "  You  must  give  me  that  bond  before 
you  leave  this  house." 

"  Let  go  your  hold." 

"Give  me  that  bond." 

"  Never  1" 

"  Then,  I'll  take  it. 

"  Unloose,  I  say  1"  yelled  Haun,  as  he  seized  Cornell's 
hands  and  tried  to  wring  them  loose  ;  but  the  muscular  arm 
and  firmly  built  frame  of  Cornell,  was  more  than  a  match 
for  the  superior  size  of  Haun.  The  latter  turned,  and 


THE     ENCOUNTER.  295 

writhed,  and  endeavored  to  shake  off  the  grasp  of  Cornell — 
who  had  worked  his  hand  under  the  cravat  of  Haun, 
and  hung  to  it  with  the  tenacity  of  a  bull-dog. 

"  Once  more,  will  you  give  me  that  bond  ?"  asked 
Cornell. 

"  Never  I"  was  still  the  sullen  reply, 

Cornell  commenced  twisting  the  neckcloth,  and  tightening 
his  grasp,  until  Hauu  began  to  breathe  with  difficulty,  but 
finally,  with  an  effort,  he  said — 

"  Cornell,  I  am — a — desperate  man — loosen — your  hold, 
or  there'll  be — bloodshed,"  at  the  same  tune  putting  his 
hand  to  the  back  of  his  head,  he  drew  from  under  his 
coat  a  heavy  bowie-knife,  and  raised  its  glittering  blade 
high  in  the  air. 

"  Don't  threaten,  but  hand  me  that  paper,"  said  Cornell, 
givmg  the  neckcloth  still  another  turn,  either  not  observing, 
or  in  his  rage  disregarding,  the  threatening  weapon  raised 
above  him.  Haun  began  to  grow  black  in  the  face,  and 
rising  on  his  toes  to  give  force  to  the  blow,  struck  with  his 
utmost  strength.  Cornell  saw  the  blow  coming,  and  adroitly 
parried  it  with  his  hand :  becoming  now  perfectly  insane 
with  passion,  he  threw  himself  madly  upon  his  antagonist, 
still  retaining  a  hold  of  the  cravat.  The  impetus  brought 
both  of  them  upon  the  floor,  and  caused  a  slight  relaxation 
of  Cornell's  hold.  Haun  felt  his  strength  leaving  him,  and 
making  one  more  desperate  lunge,  drove  the  knife  to  its  very 
hilt  into  the  breast  of  Cornell. 
(  Cornell's  hold  relaxed,  and  he  fell  lifeless  upon  Hauii, 


296       OLD      HA  UN,     THE      PAWNBROKER. 

who,  with  his  remaining  strength,  threw  the  body  from  him, 
and  exclaiming — 

"  Your  blood  be  on  your  own  head  ;  you  would  have  it 
so,"  rose,  and  standing  a  moment  to  gather  his  exhausted 
energies,  left  the  knife  still  sticking  in  the  ghastly  wound  it 
had  made,  leaped  into  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs,  and 
bounded  towards  the  door.  He  hastily  attempted  to  open 
it,  but  to  his  dismay  it  was  locked.  He  cast  his  eyes 
quickly  around  for  some  other  mode  of  egress,  and  fortu< 
nately  discovered  a  window  opening  upon  a  piazza  ;  he 
eagerly  tried  to  raise  it,  but  it  resisted  his  attempts.  There 
was  no  time  to  be  lost,  for  the  servants  had  become 
alarmed,  and  were  running  up  from  below.  He  put  his  foot 
against  the  sash,  and  with  a  crash,  sash  and  glass  fell  jin- 
gling to  the  ground.  He  jumped  through  the  opening, 
and  landed  in  safety.  Glancing  hastily  around,  he  started. 

"Dere  he  goes,  dere  he  goes  ;  catch  him  1"  exclaimed  a 
voice,  while  half  a  dozen  horror-stricken  ebony  faces  were 
protruding  from  the  window,  through  which  Haun  had 
leaped. 

"  Whah,  whah  ?  let  dis  chile  come,  he'll  be  arter  him," 
echoed  the  voice  of  another  outside  of  the  house.  It  was 
that  of  the  servant  who  had  admitted  Haun,  and  who, 
in  the  commencement  of  the  affray,  had  run  to  seek  a 
policeman,  but  who  was  still  unaware  of  the  fatal  termina- 
tion of  the  conflict. 

"  Dere  !  down  dat  alley,  quick  de  Lord  sakes,"  answered 
the  first  speaker,  as  he  indicated  with  his  finger  the  direc- 


THE     ENCOUNTER.  297 

tion  Haun  Lad  taken.  The  slight  delay  gave  vantage  to 
the  fugitive,  who  sped  away  on  the  wings  of  the  wind.  The 
servant  and  the  policeman  pursued,  the  latter  making  a  sig- 
nal for  assistance.  They  saw  Haun  running  with  his  utmost 
speed,  and  occasionally  turning  his  head,  to  see  if  he  was 
pursued.  The  officer,  more  accustomed  to  the  exercise,  soon 
distanced  his  colored  assistant,  and  rapidly  gained  on  the 
fugitive,  who,  conscious  that  he  was  losing  the  race,  looked 
eagerly  about  for  some  hiding-place,  or  egress  from  the 
alley.  He  dared  not  venture  into  the  public  street,  and  his 
only  hope  of  escape  was  in  eluding  his  pursuers,  by  finding 
some  place  of  concealment  ;  but  none  presented,  and  his 
strength  was  fast  failing.  He  heard  the  policeman,  now 
distant  only  a  couple  of  rods,  call  to  him  to  stop.  He 
heeded  it  not,  but  gathering  his  last  energies  sped  madly 
on.  But  he  was  unequal  to  the  exertion.  He  swayed 
unsteadily  from  side  to  side  ;  his  limbs  began  to  tremble  ; 
his  throat  was  parched,  his  breath  short  and  labored  ;  still 
he  hoped  for  some  place  of  escape.  Once  again  he  heard 
the  cry  "  stop  1"  so  distinctly  that  it  seemed  shouted  in  his 
ear.  He  turned  his  head  partly  round,  and  saw  at  a  glance 
that  his  pursuer  was  almost  by  his  side,  and  that  there  were 
others  following,  at  unequal  distances,  after.  He  had  not 
taken  a  dozen  steps  farther,  when  a  stunning,  crashing  blow 
fell  upon  the  side  of  his  head,  and,  reeling  an  instant,  he 
sank  heavily  to  the  ground.  At  the  same  moment,  the 
policeman,  with  his  baton  in  his  hand,  and  panting  for 
breath,  stood  over  him. 

13* 


298      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Well,  Jake  1  the  old  cuss  gave  us  a  pretty  hard  run, 
didn't  he  ?"  said  the  first  policeman  to  another  who  had  just 
come  up. 

"  Yes,  I  didn't  think  he  had  bottom  enough,  but  see, 
he's  all  bone  and  muscle.  Haven't  settled  him,  have 
you  ?" 

"  No  only  taken  the  wind  out  of  his  sails." 

"  Bleeds  like  a  hog." 

"  Yes,  but  it  was  his  own  fault.  I  called  to  him  to  stop, 
but  he  wouldn't  ;  meant  to  die  game,  I  suppose  ;  so,  I 
thought  I'd  just  tip  him  under  the  ear  ;  but,  somehow,  he 
turned  his  head,  and  made  it  awkward  striking." 

"  Served  him  right,  for  not  holding  still  like  a  gentleman; 
but,  I  guess,  he'll  live  to  be  hung  yet,"  said  the  speaker, 
turning  him  over  with  his  foot;  "  but  hadn't  you  better  stop 
his  bleeding  ?" 

"  No,  it'll  do  him  good  ;  no  hurry  about  it." 

"  What's  he  been  doing  ?" 

"  I  don't  exactly  know  myself,  only  that  he  was  kicking 
up  some  sort  of  a  row  in  a  gentleman's  house.  I  was  sent 
for,  and  when  I  got  there,  would  yon  believe  it,  he  was  jump- 
ing out  of  a  window,  as  spry  as  a  young  kitten.  I  knew 
there  was  something  up,  although  I  didn't  stop  to  see  what, 
and  so  I  followed  on  after  him  as  fast  as  ever  I  could  ;  but 
I  shouldn't"  wonder  if  it  was  something  more'n  common, 
from  the  noise  they  made  down  there.  Have  you  such  a 
thing  as  a  cord  about  you  ?" 

"  No  ;  what  in  thunder  do  you  want  of  one  ?" 


THE     ENCOUNTER.  290 

"  Want  of  one  1  you  don't  think  I'm  going  to  carry  him 
all  the  way  to  the  calaboose,  nor  that  I'm  going  to  stay 
here  all  day,  to  wait  till  he's  a  mind  to  start,  do  you  ?" 

"  I  don't  believe  that  you'll  want  any  cords  for  some  time." 

"  Won't  eh  ?  did  you  hear  that  ?  he's  coming  to  a'ready." 

"  Fact,  I  do  believe,"  exclaimed  the  other  policeman,  as 

he  gave  Haun  a  punch  in  the  ribs  to  test  his  vitality.     The 

'  latter  drew  a  long  breath,  and  opening  his  eyes  slowly, 

looked  around  with  a  bewildered  air,  and  immediately  closed 

them  again. 

.  "  I  say,  Jake,  you  just  go  through  to  the  next  street,  and 
see  if  you  can  find  a  dray,  and  come  back  as  soon  as  yon 
can.  I  suppose,  we'll  have  to  treat  him  to  a  ride  after  all, 
and  the  sooner  the  better,  as  I'm  tired  of  staying  here." 

The  person  addressed  did  as  desired,  and  soon  returned 
with  a  truck,  on  which  Haun  was  not  very  gently  placed. 
He  had  regained  consciousness,  but  was  still  entirely  ex- 
hausted, both  from  over  exertion  and  loss  of  blood.  In 
this  manner  he  was  conveyed  through  the  city  to  the  usual 
place  of  confinement,  and  delivered  by  the  policeman  into 
the  hands  of  the  proper  officer,  to  whom  the  particulars  of 
his  offence  had  already  been  communicated. 

And  so  Haun,  the  avaricious,  cunning,  plotting  Haun, 
within  the  dreary  walls  of  a  dungeon,  meditated  upon  the 
fallibility  of  human  anticipations. 

And  Cornell,  unstable,  impulsive,  but  misguided  Cornell, 
lay  with  the  death  damp  gathering  on  his  brow,  his  race  of 
pleasure  run. 


300      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

After  his  encounter  with  Haun,  he  had  been  raised  insen- 
sible from  the  floor,  and  gently  laid  upon  a  bed  where  his 
life  ebbed  with  the  blood  that  still  rippled  slowly  from  the 
wound. 

All  was  confusion  in  the  house,  and  no  one  seemed  for  a 
time  to  know  what  course  to  take,  but  order  was  finally 
partially  restored,  and  a  surgeon  sent  for.  Fortunately  one 
was  immediately  found  and  came  at  once.  On  examination 
he  found  that  Cornell  was  bleeding  internally — the  knife 
having  in  its  passage,  as  he  judged  from  the  direction  of 
the  wound,  slightly  grazed  the  heart,  and  that  he  could  live 
but  a  short  time 

As  the  surgeon  concluded  his  examination,  Cornell  opened 
his  eyes  and  in  a  faint  voice  said  : 

"  What  is  the  prospect  ?" 

"  It's  a  serious  wound,"  the  Burgeon  replied,  shaking  his 
head  doubtfully. 

"  Is  it  dangerous  ?" 

"  I  will  not  attempt  to  deceive  you,  the  chances  are 
against  you." 

"  The  villain,  if  I  could  only  live  to  see  him  suffer  for 
it." 

The  continued  hemorrhage  caused  Cornell  again  to  swoon, 
and  on  reviving,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Doctor,  I  feel  that  I  am  done  for,  now  tell  me  how  long 
I  can  live  ?" 

"  Don't  be  alarmed  unnecessarily,  while  there's  life  there's 
hope,"  said  the  surgeon,  endeavoring  to  inspire  a  confidence 


THE     ENCOUNTEK.  301 

which  he  himself  did  not  feel — and  added,  "you  must  keep 
as  quiet  as  possible." 

"  It  will  make  no  difference,  my  time  has  come.  I  have 
something  on  my  mind  that  I  want  to  disclose." 

"  You  had  better  keep  quiet,"  said  the  surgeon. 

"No  1  I  wil  not  die  without  undoing  the  wrong  I  have 
done.  Bring  a  lawyer,  he'll  understand  the  matter  better." 

"I  will  go  myself,  there's  one  lives  near  a  friend  of 
mine." 

"  No,  don't  you  leave  me,  send  some  one." 

The  surgeon,  then  dispatched  one  of  the  servants  for  the 
attorney  living  near,  a  friend  of  his  own,  and  who  happened 
fortunately  to  be  Mr.  Barnesj-  of  the  firm  of  Le  Roy  and 
Barnes.  He  came  at  once,  and  as  he  entered  the  room,  his 
name  was  mentioned  to  the  wounded  man,  who  exclaimed 
faintly,  "  Come  here,  nearer — let  the  room  be  cleared.  I 
have  something  that  I  want  to  leave  in  your  charge,  some, 
thing  that  I  want  you  to  attend  to  after  I  am  gone.  Now, 
listen." 

Cornell  then  proceeded  to  relate  the  manner  of  his  becom- 
ing possessed  of  the  property  that  he  then  had — who  and 
where  the  rightful  owner  was — where  all  papers  connected 
with  the  estate  could  be  found — who  had  participated  with 
him,  and  aided  in  concocting  the  scheme,  and  in  fine  related 
all  the  particulars  of  his  connection  with  the  plot,  which 
had  deprived  the  orphan  of  her  heritage,  until  his  failing 
strength  obliged  him  for  a  moment  to  cease. 

Mr.  Barnes  took  advantage  of  the  interruption  to  remark, 


302      OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKEB. 

"  If  it  would  ease  your  mind  to  know  that  the  child  who  has 
been  wronged  is  now  living,  you  may  rely  upon  my  assertion 
of  the  fact.  How  inscrutable  are  the  ways  of  Providence  ! 
Can  you  answer  me  one  more  question,  which  will  make  my 
labors  easier  in  complying  with  your  request  ?  Where 
is " 

The  attorney  cast  his  eyes  upon  the  face  of  Cornell,  as  he 
was  about  to  ask  the  last  question,  and  noticing  a  great 
change,  called  to  the  surgeon  who  had  retired  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  bedside.  He  hurriedly  approached,  and  put 
his  ear  near  to  the  mouth  of  the  wounded  man,  at  the  same 
time  taking  his  wrist  to  feel  his  pulse. 

"  He  lives,"  the  doctor  answered,  to  the  inquiring  look  of 
the  attorney,  but  at  the  instant  Cornell  partly  raised  himself 
from  the  pillow,  and  gave  a  convulsive  sob — a  rattling  in 
the  throat  was  for  an  instant  heard — a  quivering  of  the 
limbs — and  all  was  still.  The  two  stood  a  moment  by  the 
bed-side,  and  gazed  on  the  face  of  the  dead,  and  with  a  deep- 
drawn  sigh,  slowly  and  reverently  turned  away. 


HAUN     IN    PRISON.  303 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

HAUN      IN      PRISON. 

WE  have  said  that  Haun  gazed  through  the  gratings  of  a 
dungeon  upon  the  glories  of  his  imaginary  Paradise — a 
Paradise  he  was  never  to  enjoy  ;  but  he  did  not  bear  with 
meekness  his  change  of  fortune.  The  dull  monotony  of  the 
hours  which  passed  slowly  away,  seemed  to  oppress  him,  and 
he  longed  for  freedom.  Immediately  after  his  arrest  and  a 
preliminary  examination,  he  had  been  committed  on  a  charge 
of  murder,  to  take  his  trial  at  the  next  term  of  the  court. 
It  was,  however,  the  season  of  the  year  when  the  courts 
were  not  in  session,  and  he  saw  before  him  the  prospect 
of  a  long  imprisonment  before  he  could  even  have  his  trial, 
but  beyond  his  trial  he  did  not  allow  his  thoughts  to  roam. 
To  him,  in  his  solitary  cell,  time  moved  slowly.  He  sought 
companionship  with  some  of  the  officials  who  were  obliged 
daily  to  visit  him  ;  but  all  efforts  failed — no  one  seemed  to 
have  been  favorably  prepossessed.  By  day  it  was  lonely, 
but  during  the  long  and  dreary  nights  it  was  still  worse.  He 
had  no  remorse  of  conscience,  and  therefore  was  not  goaded 
by  its  stings  ;  but  fear  usurped  its  place,  and  in  solitude  he 


304      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

became  a  coward.  His  sleep  was  fitful,  and  disturbed  by 
frightful  dreams.  At  first  he  bore  up  with  a  sort  of 
bravado,  and  assumed  a  reckless  air,  but  that  soon  disap- 
peared ;  and  his  altered  manner  and  haggard  lock  showed 
the  feelings  that  preyed  upon  him.  Finding  his  servile 
efforts  to  make  friends  of  his  keepers  vain,  he  sank  into  a 
taciturn  and  despondent  mood. 

But  his  was  not  the  will  to  tamely  and  supinely  submit, 
without  an  effort  for  freedom — to  lie  down  and  be  crushed, 
without  attempting  to  rise  and  throw  off  the  burthen.  He 
hugged  the  hope  of  escape,  and  hourly  revolved  in  his  mind 
plans  for  effecting  his  purpose.  He  thought  of  bribing  the 
jailor,  but  his  valuables  had  been  taken  from  him  and 
retained.  He  thought  of  knocking  him  down,  and  thus  get- 
ting possession  of  the  keys  ;  but  this  project  was  abandoned. 
He  thought  of  burrowing  through  the  walls,  but  when  he 
soundea  the  sides  of  his  cell  and  felt  the  solid  masonry,  that 
neither  moved  uor  vibrated  under  his  blow,  his  heart  sank  : 
but  there  was  the  door  of  his  cell,  secured  by  perpendicular 
iron  bars,  if  he  could  only  wrench  out  one  of  them.  As  the 
thought  flashed  through  his  mind,  he  crept  stealthily 
towards  it,  and  grasping  with  both  hands,  shook  it  with  his 
whole  strength  ;  but  it  was  as  firm  as  the  rock  of  Gibralter. 
His  hands  dropped  in  despair,  and  he  turned  and  paced  to 
and  fro,  but  he  could  not  keep  his  thoughts  from  it.  He 
returned  and  seized  the  middle  bar  again,  and  attempted 
agaii  to  move  it — first,  laterally,  and  then  perpendicularly 
He  stops,  and  his  cadaverous  face  flushes.  He  draws  a 


HA  UN     IN     PRISON.  305 

long  breath,  and  waits  to  listen — no  one  is  near  :  ne  applies 
his  utmost  strength  once  more,  and  now  he  is  certain  of  it — 
it  moves  ;  he  can  raise  the  bar  partly  from  its  socket,  but 
not  entirely  out.  His  strength  is  exhausted  from  emotion 
and  exertion.  Returning  to  the  farther  corner  of  his  cell, 
he  sinks  into  his  chair,  and  gazes  at  the  door,  like  a  miser 
watching  his  treasure.  If  he  had  but  a  file  to  enlarge 
the  socket  of  the  bar,  or  to  file  away  the  iron  base  into 
which  it  was  fitted,  how  easy  his  labor  would  be.  He 
searched  every  corner  of  his  cell,  but  not  a  thing — not  even 
a  splinter  of  wood  could  he  discover.  He  glanced  at  his 
chair,  and  raised  it  abstractedly  in  his  hand,  thinking 
whether  he  could  not  use  it  as  a  lever  :  as  he  raise  1 
it  aloft,  he  perceived  an  iron  screw  on  the  underside,  which 
had  evidently  been  used  to  secure  in  its  place  one  of  the 
legs.  With  what  joy  did  he  observe  it,  and  with  what 
patient  and  untiring  perseverance  did  he  worm  it  out 
with  his  fingers,  from  the  hard  wood  into  which  it  was 
embedded. 

How  he  worked  night  after  night,  cautiously  and  silently, 
depriving  himself  of  sleep  and  rest,  to  wear  away  little 
by  little  the  iron  support  which  sustained  the  upright  bar  ; 
and  with  what  a  fever  of  anxiety  did  he  watch  his  progress, 
until  after  weeks  of  toil  his  labors  were  ended.  He  could 
raise  the  bar  from  its  socket,  and  by  the  application  of  his 
utmost  strength,  could  bend  the  end  sufficiently  to  admit  the 
passage  of  his  lank  form  through  the  aperture  so  made.  His 
next  care  was  to  partially  replace  everything,  so  as  to  con- 


306      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

ceal  Ms  attempt  from  the  prying  eyes  of  the  officials  ;  in  this 
there  was  no  great  difficulty. 

And,  now,  Haun  was  urged  to  haste  by  the  consciousness 
that  the  term  of  the  court  was  near  when  he  should  have  his 
trial  ;  a  short  delay,  and  his  labors  would  be  vain. 

He  waited  now  only  for  a  stormy  night,  that  he  might 
effect  his  purpose.  It  soon  came.  A  tempestuous  day  was 
succeeded  by  a  night  of  Egyptian  darkness,  while  the  gale 
of  wind  that  came  from  seaward  brought  torrents  of  rain. 
Haun  listened  with  delight  to  the  hoarse  howling  of  the 
wind,  as  it  rushed  round  the  corners  of  his  prison.  Never 
was  the  gentle  breeze  of  Spring  sweeter  or  dearer  to  him, 
than  the  angry  gusts  of  the  tempest  that  raged  without. 
Notwithstanding  the  violent  pattering  of  the  rain,  he  could 
hear  the  hour  of  night  distinctly  sounded  from  a  neighboring 
clock.  He  counted  the  strokes  as  hour  after  hour  sounded, 
till  midnight  came,  and  then  he  nerved  himself  for  the 
effort.  Bending  aside  the  iron  bar,  and  urging  his  body 
through  the  aperture,  he  stood  in  the  corridor — all  was 
gloomy  and  silent.  He  groped  along  until  he  reached 
a  window.  He  put  out  his  hand  to  feel  his  way,  but  it  fell 
upon  the  cold,  rough  surface  of  iron.  He  had  overcome  one 
obstacle,  to  meet  another  more  formidable.  But  he  had  no 
time  to  lose  in  vain  regrets.  Again  he  passed  his  hand 
around  the  casing  of  the  window,  and  discovered  that 
the  lower  half  of  the  window  was  latticed,  but  that 
the  upper  half  was  secured  only  by  horizontal  bars  at  some 
distance  from  each  other.  He  stood  a  monienc  irresolute, 


HAUN     IN     PRISON.  307 

and  then  softly  and  quickly  returned  to  his  cell,  and  reach- 
ing in  his  long  bony  arm,  seized  the  chair  and  brought  it 
forth.  As  he  started  back,  a  prisoner  in  an  adjoining  cell 
turned  restlessly  and  groaned  in  his  sleep.  Haun  stood  a 
moment  breathless,  but  hearing  nothing  farther,  passed  on. 
His  resolution  was  quickly  taken.  The  upper  part  of 
the  sash  had  been  let  down  for  the  free  admission  of  air, 
and  placing  the  chair  under  the  window,  he  mounted  it,  and 
with  a  great  effort,  by  turning  his  head  sideways,  succeeded 
in  getting  it  between  the  parallel  bars  ;  but  his  labor  was 
not  half  done — his  body  had  yet  to  follow.  Reaching  up, 
and  seizing  one  of  the  rods  in  each  hand,  he  endeavored  to 
press  them  apart  sufficiently  to  admit  his  body  ;  but  in  his 
anxiety  and  eagerness  he  forgot  the  frail  support  on  which 
he  stood — and,  as  he  wrestled  with  the  iron,  he  braced  him- 
self firmly  against  the  chair,  but  bearing  his  weight 
unguardedly  upon  the  side,  it  tilted,  and  tottered,  and  fell, 
and  Haun  was  left  suspended  in  mid  air.  He  held  with  the 
clutch  of  desperation  to  the  bar,  endeavoring  to  support 
himself  and  striving  to  cry  for  help  ;  but  the  howling  blast 
bore  away  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and  the  falling  rain 
drowned  his  half-stifled  cries.  He  felt  his  strength  failing 
him.  He  could  no  longer  support  himself — he  was  suffo- 
cating. His  arms  relaxed — his  hands  unclasped.  He  was 
dead  ! 

In  the  morning  when  the  jailor  entered,  he  started  back 
in  alarm  on  seeing  the  gaunt  form  of  his  late  prisoner 
suspended  by  the  neck.  Summoning  assistance,  he  with 


308      OLD     HA.  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

great  effort  extricated  the  lifeless  body  and  quietly  returned 
it  to  its  cell ;  this  done,  he  gave  the  alarm  that  the  prisoner 
had  committed  suicide,  and  fabricated  a  story,  varying 
in  many  important  particulars  from  the  truth.  For  he 
feared  to  have  it  known  that  Haun  had  partially  succeeded 
in  effecting  his  escape,  as  this  fact  would  have  reflected 
unfavorably  upon  his  own  vigilance.  As  soon  as  possible 
the  body  was  removed  to  the  public  burial-ground,  and 
without  ceremony  placed  in  a  rough  box  and  hastily  interred. 
The  effects  left  by  the  deceased  and  which  were  of  consider- 
able value,  were  taken  charge  of  by  the  proper  authority, 
and  as  no  heir  ever  appeared  to  substantiate  any  claim  as 
such,  they  finally  went  into  the  coffers  of  the  State. 

As  soon  as  possible  after  the  death  of  Cornell,  a  full 
account  of  the  circumstances  attending  the  same,  and  of  the 
revelations  made  by  him,  was  transmitted  by  Mr.  Barnes 
the  attorney  to  Mr.  Pierce,  with  the  suggestion  that  some 
suitable  person  should  at  once  be  sent  with  full  power  to 
take  charge  of  the  estate.  This  communication  was  received 
by  Mr.  Pierce  about  the  first  of  October,  and  he  immediate- 
ly laid  before  his  client,  Doctor  Foster,  the  information 
which  had  thus  come  to  his  knowledge.  The  latter  was 
overcome  by  his  emotion  on  becoming  fully  possessed  of  the 
facts  which,  though  simple  and  common  in  themselves,  were 
yet  the  means  whereby  the  designs  of  the  conspirators  had 
been  frustrated  and  their  dark  plottings  revealed.  Their 
own  evil  passions  had  done  what  the  agency  of  man  might 
have  been  long  in  accomplishing.  The  course  to  be  taken 


HA  UN     IN     PRISON.  309 

was  simple.  It  was  necessary  that  some  one  should  go  at 
once  to  take  charge  of  the  estate,  and  after  consultation 
with  his  legal  adviser,  the  doctor  concluded  that  he  himself 
would  go,  taking  his  adopted  daughter  with  him,  and  see 
personally  to  the  proper  disposition  of  the  matter. 

Arrangements  were  easily  made  ;  and  according  to  the 
deliberate  advice  of  his  attorney,  Doctor  Foster  started  with 
his  ward  for  New  Orleans,  in  order  that  he  might  put  her 
into  legal  possession  of  her  estate.  They  travelled  rapidly 
and  soon  reached  their  destination,  and  with  the  assistance 
of  Mr.  Barnes,  who  took  great  interest  in  the  matter,  the 
necessary  steps  were  taken  and  everything  was  speedily  and 
successfully  arranged. 

Their  stay  was  short ;  and  as  soon  as  the  business  that 
called  them  there  could  be  concluded,  they  took  a  cordial 
leave  of  Mr.  Barnes,  having  first  made  to  him  suitable 
acknowledgments,  for  the  great  services  he  had  rendered, 
and  after  a  long  but  not  unpleasant  trip  again  sat  beneath 
the  shade  of  their  own  vine  and  fig  tree,  and  rested  them- 
selves from  the  fatigues  of  their  journey. 

With  the  aid  and  advice  of  a  female  friend,  the  doctor 
had  selected  a  seminary  of  learning  where  he  had  thought 
best  to  place  his  ward,  for  the  purpose  of  enabling  her  to 
perfect  herself,  not  only  in  the  more  solid  parts  of  a  finished 
education,  but  also  in  those  lighter  accomplishments  which 
give  grace  to  the  manners  and  beauty  to  the  mind. 

The  doctor's  tune,  at  first  hung  heavily  after  her  depar- 
ture, and  he  missed  his  accustomed  kiss  on  his  return  from 


310      OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

the  labors  of  the  day,  but  by  having  her  come  often  to  visit 
him,  he  became  finally  habituated  to  the  change. 

The  substantial  basis  on  which  the  rudiments  of  her 
education  had  been  commenced,  enabled  her  to  make  rapid 
progress. 

The  doctor  noticed  with  satisfaction  her  rapid  advance- 
ment and  unusual  proficiency,  and  his  generous  heart  yearned 
toward  the  child  that  he  had  made  his  own,  while  his  ardent 
affection  was  not  unreciprocated  by  the  object  of  his  love. 

Mich  took  the  occasion  of  Anna's  frequent  visits  home  to 
see  her,  but  he  was  not  by  any  means  pleased  to  find  Edward 
Eandall  also  on  terms  of  intimacy  ;  and  a  pang  of  jealousy 
shot  through  his  heart  at  the  thought  of  her  affections  being 
shared  by  another.  Young  and  inexperienced  as  he  was 
in  the  ways  of  the  world,  yet  he  felt  the  pang — Nature 
taught  it. 

His  boyish  rival,  of  whom  we  have  once  before  made  men- 
tion as  the  son  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Randall,  was  a  student  at 
school  and  engaged  in  preparing  himself  for  college.  It  was 
the  desire  of  his  father  that  the  son  should  follow  his  own 
profession,  but  to  this  there  was  an  aversion.  Even  at  that 
early  age  the  son  had  exhibited  such  a  reckless  spirit,  and 
such  a  fondness  for  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  this  world,  that 
it  might  have  been  evident  that  his  practice  would  be 
incompatible  with  his  preaching,  even  if  he  were  to  embrace 
the  sacred  profession. 

Mich  continued  in  the  service  of  Mr.  Pierce,  and  rose 
daily  in  his  estimation.  Mr.  Pierce  had  thought  proper  to 


HAUN     IN     PRISON.  311 

offer  Mich  some  advantages  of  school,  and  the  latter  as  a 
partial  compensation  still  devoted  his  mornings  and  evenings 
aa  before  to  the  duties  of  the  office.  Every  leisure  hour  was 
occupied,  and  thus  by  close  application  he  was  soon  able  to 
compete  with  others  of  the  same  age  who  had  enjoyed 
advantages  far  superior  to  his  own. 

But  it  would  not  interest  our  readers  to  follow  the  youth- 
ful students  through  their  daily  routine  during  the  years 
devoted  to  study.  Each  had  his  trials  and  pleasures,  but 
the  life  of  neither  was  marked  by  any  unusual  event.  Years 
passed  without  producing  any  material  change — except  that 
which  time  must  always  bring — the  change  of  youth  into 
manhood — of  manhood  into  old  age — and  of  old  age  into 
its  original  dust 


312        OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

NOON-DAY      OF     LIFE. 

SET  EN  years  have  passed  since  we  bade  our  friends  adieu. 
But  these  seven  years  have  left  their  indelible  impress  upon 
the  looks,  manners,  and  character  of  those  in  whom  we  are 
most  interested. 

It  is  Anna  Hervey's  eighteenth  birthday,  when  we  meet 
again,  after  this  long  lapse  of  time. 

She  has  reached  the  age  when  she  should  come  into 
possession  of  the  property  left  her.  She  is  in  the  bloom  of 
womanhood,  and  possessed,  in  an  unusual  degree,  of  the 
graces  of  mind  and  person,  which  endear  woman  to  those 
who  surround  her. 

Beautiful,  accomplished  and  intelligent,  Doctor  Foster's 
ward  was  the  ornament  of  the  circle  in  which  she  moved. 
For  her  benefit,  her  guardian  had  changed  his  residence 
some  years  before,  to  a  more  desirable  part  of  the  city. 

Biddy  had  gone  to  cheer  the  home  of  one  of  her  country- 
men, and  her  duties  were  now  performed  by  other  and  more 
experienced  servants. 


NOON-DAY     OF     LIFE.  313 

Anna  was  surrounded  by  all  those  elegancies  her  educa- 
tion had  fitted  her  to  enjoy,  and  which  her  wealth  warranted 
her  in  possessing.  Her  WISH  had  been,  for  a  long  tune, 
LAW  with  the  worthy  doctor.  She  had  but  to  name  a 
desire,  and  if  within  the  range  of  possibilities,  it  was  imme- 
diately gratified.  His  health,  of  late,  had  not  been  good, 
and  he  had  partially  resigned  the  practice  of  his  profession, 
devoting  his  time,  almost  exclusively,  to  the  interests  and 
amusements  of  his  ward.  The  vacations  of  school  had  been 
spent  in  travelling  ;  they  had  visited,  together,  places  of 
fashionable  resort,  and  the  many  scenes  interesting  for 
beauty  or  association,  with  which  our  own  favored  country 
abounds.  Both  by  reading  and  observation  Anna  stored  her 
mind  with  a  rich  fund  of  information,  thus  furnishing  her- 
self with  material,  for  the  display  of  woman's  rarest,  but 
most  valuable,  accomplishment — easy  and  intelligent  con- 
versation. 

The  school-days  were  over,  and  she  was  this  evening,  as  a 
woman,  to  receive  her  friends  for  the  first  time. 

The  fitful,  changing  sky  of  an  April  day,  was  glowing  in 
all  the  beauty  of  a  brilliant  sunset,  as  she  entered  the  par- 
lor, attired  for  the  evening.  Slowly  and  thoughtfully  she 
paced  the  elegantly-furnished  room.  The  buried  past 
appeared  before  her  there.  The  memory  of  her  gentle,  lov- 
ing mother,  and  fond  father,  rushed  upon  her,  and  the  wish 
that  they  were  here  to  wander  forth  with  her,  side  by  side, 
into  the  untried  world  upon  which  she  was  now  entering, 
was  breathed  forth  in  the  long  and  deep-drawn  sigh  that 
14 


314:      OLD     HATJN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

escaped  her.  She  had  thought  herself  alone,  and  started 
when  she  heard  the  voice  of  her  guardian  saying : 

"  Sighing  !  Is  there  anything  in  this  wide  world  that 
Anna  Hervey  wants,  that  she  does  not  now  possess  ?" 

"  Why,  doctor  !  you  here  ?  Where  are  you  concealed  ? 
Ah  !  I  see,  watching  the  sunset.  It  is  beautiful,  is  it 
not  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  you  have  not  answered  my  question.  Have 
you  a  desire  ungratified?  This  is  your  birth-day,  and  it 
ought  to  be  a  happy  one." 

"  It  is  ;  you,  my  dearest  friend,  have  left  nothing  for  me 
to  desire  ;  but,  you  know,  that  even  in  our  happiest  hours, 
a  feeling  of  sadness  will  sometimes  intrude." 

"  Yes,  yes — so  it  is.  But  what  made  you  sigh,  then  ? 
Tell  me,  Anna,"  said  the  doctor,  drawing  her  tenderly 
towards  him,  as  he  stood  within  the  folds  of  the  heavy  cur- 
tains that  shrouded  the  window. 

"  I  can  scarcely  define  my  feelings.  I  was  thinking  of 
the  present,  and  also  of  the  future  for  me  ;  and  wondered 
whether  my  happiness  was  to  continue.  Not  a  cloud  dims 
my  horizon  ;  but  can  it  last  ?  thought  I.  This  is  a  world 
of  vicissitudes  ;  change  may  come  to  me  as  well  as  to 
others.  And  then,  my  mind  travelled  back  through  the 
many  scenes  of  my  life.  True,  it  is  short ;  but  has  it  not 
been  eventful  ?  I  thought  of  the  time  when  you  took  me 
and  my  dying  mother  under  your  protection  ;  and  then 
the  wish  arose  in  my  heart,  that  she  had  been  spared  to 
gather  with  me  the  fruits  of  your  kindness." 


NOON-DAY     OF     LIFE.  »\ 

"  Not  mine,  Anna  ;  you  forget  that  all  this  you  are 
enjoying,  is  bought  with  your  own  ;  that  I  am  your  guest ; 
I  am  the  benefitted,  not  the  benefactor." 

"  Through  whose  instrumentality  have  I  been  put  in  pos- 
session of  all  this?  Who  has  loved  and  protected  me 
through  the  years  that  have  passed,  since  I  was  left  an 
orphan  ?  Can  money  buy  affection  ?  No  !  no  !  do  not 
say  that  again.  Are  you  not  father,  friend,  all  that  I  have 
in  the  world  to  cling  to  ?  Have  not  I  seen  those  locks  grow 
grey  and  thin,  since  I  first  received  your  love  ?  and  am  I 
less  dear  now,  that  I  can  evince  my  affection  for  you,  and 
my  gratitude  for  your  kindness,  than  when,  as  a  hungry  and 
ragged  child,  you  first  fed  and  clothed  me  ?" 

"  No,  no,  Anna,  child  !  you  know  it  is  not  so.  But  don't 
speak  of  what  I  have  done  for  you  ;  you  know  I  have  done 
no  more  than  any  one  else  would.  You  have  paid  me  a 
thousand  times  by  your  kindness  and  affection.  But  what 
should  I  have  been  without  you  ? — a  lonely  old  man." 

"  You  flatter,  doctor  ;  but,  I  hope,  you  will  never  speak 
again  of  being  my  guest,  for  I  shall  certainly  think  you  are 
tired  of  your  charge." 

"  Humph  1  well,  I  flatter  you,  do  I  ?  just  come  and  look 
at  yourself  ;"  and  he  led  her  before  a  large  mirror.  There 
for  one  instant  they  stood,  gazing  at  each  other  as  they 
were  reflected  from  the  glass — and  well  they  might — for  it 
was  as  fine  a  picture  as  ever  painter's  skill  portrayed. 

Her  tall  and  gaceful  figure,  arrayed  in  a  robe  of  snowy 


316      OLD     HATTN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

satin,  looked  more  symmetrical  still,  as  contrasted  with  tho 
robust  form  of  the  plainly,  but  well-dressed  doctor.  The 
wealth  of  glossy  brown  hair  was  simply  bound  about  her 
head,  without  ornament,  leaving  the  broad  forehead,  ever- 
varying  cheek,  and  deep  earnest  eyes,  to  tell  the  beholder 
of  the  affection,  purity  and  intellect  enshrined  there. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  do  I  flatter  ?  No,  Anna  ;  Nature 
has  dealt  bounteously  with  you.  Your  beauty  will  give  you 
power  ;  but  I  am  not  afraid  that  Anna  Hervey  will  use  that 
power  unworthily." 

"  No,  I  trust  not.  It  would  be  affectation  in  me  to  seem 
ignorant  of  my  own  powers  and  qualities.  But,  I  hope,  I 
never  shall  become  vain  of  the  form  that  God  has  given  me. 
It  is  something  that  I  did  not  give  myself,  and,  conse- 
quently, there  is  no  merit  in  possessing  it.  A  pride  in  what, 
through  my  own  exertions,  I  have  been  able  to  obtain,  is 
much  more  likely  to  be  my  fault." 

"  Humph — pride — well,  is  not  that  justifiable  ?  I  think, 
it  is,  in  a  degree." 

"  Perhaps  so  ;  but,  I  think,  the  more  we  learn,  the  more 
we  know  and  feel  our  deficiencies;  and  if  one  of  the  wisest  of 
men  felt,  after  a  long  life  spent  in  search  of  knowledge,  that 
he  was  '  like  a  boy  playing  with  the  pebbles  upon  the  shore, 
while  the  ocean  of  truth  lay  all  undiscovered  before  him,' 
what  have  I  a  girl  of  eighteen  years  to  be  proud  of  ?" 

"  You  are  right,  Anna,  this  life  is  but  the  primary  school; 
we  learn  here  but  the  alphabet,  by  which,  in  eternity,  we 


NOON-DAY     OF     LIFE.  317 

may  read  tilings,  now  wisely  hidden  from  us.  But  away 
now  with  all  sad  and  serious  thoughts — be  gay — for  I 
hear  your  friends  are  already  arriving." 

"  So  I  see.  I  hope  you  will  be  gay  too.  I  want  every 
one  should  be  happy  around  me  to-night,  and,  as  a  presage 
of  gaiety,  here  comes  Edward's  laughing  face." 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Kandall — we  drop  the  Edward  for 
this  evening,  as  we  take  upon  ourselves  the  title  of  Miss 
Hervey.  We  emerge  from  the  chrysalis  of  girlhood  to- 
night." 

"Ah,  indeed  I  right  royally  you  receive.  You  put  off  the 
mortal,  do  you,  and  take  to  yourself  wings  ?  I  cannot 
offend,  surely,  then,  if  I  worship  the  angel — the  queen " 

"  If  I  were  an  angel,  I  certainly  would  not  care  for  the 
homage  of  one  so  far  beneath  me,  as  a  mortal.  If  a  queen, 
your  worship  is  by  far  too  familiar." 

"  Be  mortal  then,  and  your  own  sweet  self,  for  both 
queen  and  angel  are  then  combined,  and  I  will  worship 
devoutly  here,"  said  Randall,  in  whispered  tones. 

"  You  are  an  incorrigible  flatterer,  Edward,  you  will  for- 
get how  to  be  sincere — if  you  do  not  practise  sincerity 
oftener." 

"  Never  was  more  sincere  in  my  life,  I  assure  you." 

"  You  were  never  more  foolish,  that  is  a  certainty — but 
now  leave  your  nonsense — here  come  some  of  my  friends,  I 
wish  to  introduce  them  to  you — so  do  try  and  be  sensible 
for  one  evening." 

"  You  hard-hearted  creature,"  whispered  young  Randall, 


318      OLD     HATTN,     THE     PAWNBKOKEE. 

as  some  of  the  guests  approached.  Soon  the  rooms  began 
to  fill — laughter  and  gaiety  prevailed.  The  youthful 
hostess  by  her  own  bright  and  sparkling  sallies,  and  grace- 
ful courtesy,  made  all  feel  at  ease.  Music  and  dancing  soon 
were  introduced,  in  which  nearly  all  present  engaged. 
Anna  looked  about  in  search  of  the  doctor — and  found  him 
seated  by  a  fair  young  girl,  chatting  in  an  unusually  cheer- 
ful vein — and  said  gaily  : 

"  You  are  well  cared  for,  I  see — now  be  careful,  doctor, 
or  you  will  lose  your  heart." 

"  I  presume  there  is  danger — but  wait  one  moment, 
Anna,  I  want  to  speak  with  you,"  said  the  doctor,  rising 
and  following  Anna,  who  had  immediately  turned  away, 
after  finding  that  he  was  entertained. 

"  What  is  it  ?  You  look  troubled,"  said  Anna. 

"  Not  troubled.  But  why  is  not  Mich  here  ?  You  surely 
did  not  forget  to  send  him  an  invitation." 

"Forget  him!  most  certainly  not — I  presume  he  will  be 
here.  It  is  not  late." 

"  What  is  it  ?  can  I  be  of  service  ?"  said  Edward  Ran- 
dall approaching. 

"  No  1  the  doctor  thought  I  must  have  forgotten  to  send 
an  invitation  to  Mr.  Lynch — as  he  has  not  come — but  I  pre- 
sume he  is  coming,  as  I  have  received  no  intimation  to  the 
contrary." 

"I  should  doubt  it  very  much,"  said  Randall,  with  a 
slight  sneer. 

"  Why  ?     Have  you  seen  him  ?"  said  Anna. 


NOON-DAY     OF     LIFE.  319 

"  No — I  do  not  often  see  him.  Are  you  and  he  as  firm 
friends  as  ever  ?  I  have  not  met  him  here  in  a  long  time." 

Certainly  we  are — he  has  not  called  very  often  of  late — 
but  you  know  he  has  been  studying  very  hard.  He  was 
admitted  to  the  bar  a  short  time  ago." 

"  Ah — indeed  !  so  he  has  become  a  lawyer  ?  I  was  not 
aware  of  that  circumstance." 

"  Mr.  Pierce  says  he  gives  the  promise  of  becoming  a 
very  successful  one  too." 

"  Indeed — you  are  very  much  interested  in  him  I  see. 
I  think  I  should  be  willing  to  become  a  pauper  emigrant,  if 
by  so  doing,  I  could  awaken  a  similar  interest." 

"  I  should  be  very  ungrateful,  indeed,  if  I  did  not  feel  a 
warm  interest  in  the  success  of  one  who  has  always  been  a 
kind  friend.  But  you  must  allow  me  to  say  that  I  think  the 
epithet  applied  to  him  unjust,  and  ill-natured.  He  was 
an  emigrant  it  is  true — but  no  more  a  pauper  than  my- 
self. For  the  circumstances  in  which  we  are  placed  in 
early  life,  we  are  not  responsible.  If  by  perseverance  in 
the  cultivation  of  his  mind,  and  by  his  own  efforts,  he  has 
elevated  himself  in  the  scale  of  society,  he  deserves  so  much 
the  more  our  esteem." 

"  Anna,  I  beg  your  pardon — I  did  not  intend  to  offend 
you.  I  was  not  aware  that  he  was  so  dear  a  friend." 

"  Equally  so  with  your  own  family — you  know  the  date 
of  our  first  acquaintance — and  must  understand  me  well 
enough  to  know  that  I  will  not  allow  my  friends  to  be 
spoken  disparagingly  of  in  my  presence." 


320      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Am  I  forgiven  ?  I  assure  you  I  intended  nothing  dis- 
respectful to  him.  The  fact  of  his  being  your  friend,  is 
enough  for  him  to  gain  my  favor — aside  from  his  own 
merits." 

"He  needs  not  that  to  gain  any  one's  friendship.  But  I 
believe  you  never  liked  him  very  much.  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  Why  should  you  think  so  ?  Years  ago  you  know,  I 
often  met  him  at  your  house,  but  since  my  return  from 
college  I  have  scarcely  seen  him.  I  have  no  cause  to  dislike 
him  that  I  am  aware  of." 

"  No,  I  should  suppose  not ;  but  why  are  you  not  danc- 
ing ?" 

"  May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  dancing  with  you  ?" 

"  Not  now — there  are  others  who  may  like  to  dance  ; 
come,  let  me  introduce  you  to  that  pretty  girl  who  is  talk- 
ing with  the  doctor.  He  will  resign  her  to  you." 

"  I  do  not  care  to  dance,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  bask  in 
the  light  of  your  eyes." 

"  The  light  of  my  eyes  must  be  reflected  in  another  part 
of  the  room  just  at  present — so  you  must  excuse  me." 

"  It  is  darkness  when  you  are  away." 

"  Edward,  do  change  your  strain  ;  it  is  becoming  mono- 
tonous," said  Anna,  as  she  walked  away  to  a  group  of  per- 
sons who  stood  near  the  doorway. 

Edward  remained  for  one  moment  gazing  after  her,  while  a 
strange  expression  flitted  over  his  countenance,  as  he  thought 
of  what  she  had  said  of  Mich.  But  then,  the  boldness  with 
which  she  acknowledged  her  interest  in  him,  could  only  be 


NOON -DAT     OF     LIFE.  321 

dictated  by  feelings  of  friendship,  he  well  know.  He  would 
take  care  that  they  did  not  become  of  a  more  tender  nature. 
To  obtain  the  possession  of  all  this  Wealth,  together  with 
the  person  of  the  beautiful  owner,  was  well  worth  a  strug- 
gle, and  he  at  once  resolved  to  dissemble  his  dislike  for 
Mich,  if  by  so  doing  he  could  gain  her  favor. 

The  musicians  had  struck  up  a  lively  strain,  and  all  were 
in  motion.  Anna  stood  conversing  with  a  gentleman,  who 
had  but  just  arrived,  when  Mich  entered  the  room. 

He  approached  Anna,  who  greeted  him  cordially,  at  the 
same  time  expressing  the  fears  she  had  entertained  that  she 
should  not  see  him  that  evening.  Mich  replied  that  he  had 
hesitated  about  coming,  but  that  the  wish  to  congratulate 
her  upon  her  present  happiness  had  induced  him,  finally,  to 
present  himself. 

"  I  should  have  felt  neglected,  Mich,  if  you  had  not  come. 
You,  my  earliest  friend,  should  not  certainly  have  absented 
yourself  upon  this  occasion.  Do  you  know  that  I  am  free 
to-night  ?" 

"  I  hope  you  may  always  be  as  free  from  care,  and 
that  the  future  may  prove  as  bright  as  the  present,"  said 
Mich,  earnestly. 

"  Thank  you.  I  could  not  well  wish  for  more.  In  return, 
let  me  hope  that  success  may  crown  all  your  efforts,  and 
your  brightest  dreams  be  realized." 

"  I  dare  not  hope  for  that.  I  fear  you  would  not,  if  you 
could  know  them  all" 

"  Do  you  build  air-castles  now,  Mich,  as  much  as  you 
13* 


322      OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

used  to  ?  You  used  to  be  famous  for  that  ;  but  you  have 
not  told  me  of  any  this  long,  long  time." 

"  Because  I  have  been  conscious  of  their  instability  ; 
because  those  I  most  love  to  rear  are  too  bright  and  beautiful 
for  one  so  humble  as  myself,  to  even  hope  to  inhabit." 

"  Be  ambitious,  be  persevering,  and  there  is  nothing 
worthy  of  possessing  we  may  not  obtain." 

"  Is  that  your  advice  ?  Is  there  no  danger  of  my 
reaching  after  a  prize  that  is  too  high  for  me  ?" 

"  None  in  this  country.  You  know  all  are  equal.  It  is 
not  wealtli  or  titles  here,  but  mind  and  intellect  that  win 
the  race." 

"With  men,  perhaps,  it  is  so  ;  but  in  the  more  private 
walks  of  life — in  society — do  you  bid  me  hope,  that  my 
own  exertions  will  make  the  world  forget  what  I  once  was  ?" 

"  Let  them  remember,  if  they  will,  Mich  ;  I  do  not  feel 
that  I  am  any  more  worthy  of  the  esteem  of  my  friends 
now,  than  when  I  trudged  Broadway  to  sell  the  matches." 

Oh,  Anna  !  do  not  speak  of  it.  I  do  not  like  to  think  of 
those  days.  I  involuntarily  shudder  when  I  remember  that 
episode  in  your  life." 

"  Well,  it  is  past.  How  many  changes  have  transpired 
since  that  time  !  I  think  we  ourselves  have  changed  more 
than  everthing  else.  You  have  changed  so  very  much." 

"  For  the  better,  I  hope  ?" 

"  Certainly  !  I  can  scarcely  believe  you  are  the  same 
Mich  Lynch  as  when  I  first  knew  you.  You  look,  talk,  and 
act  so  differently." 


NOON-DA.Y     OF     LIFE.  323 

"  Tell  me  how  I  have  most  changed  ?" 

"  Well,  I  can  scarcely  explain  the  change  to  you, 
although  it  is  so  perceptible  to  me.  But  you  have  lost  the 
brogue  entirely,  did  you  know  that,  Mich  ?" 

"  Och  !  indade,  and  it's  not  gone  intirely,"  said  Mich, 
with  the  broadest  possible  accent. 

"  Not  forgotten,  I  see,"  said  Anna,  laughing  ;  "  but  be 
careful  of  your  heart  to-night,  Mich,  for  I  am  going  to  intro- 
duce you  to '  some  bewitching  girls.  You  must  dance,  and 
make  yourself  agreeable." 

"  You  forget,  Anna,  that  I  do  not  dance  ;  that  part  of 
my  education  is  yet  to  be  completed,  and  as  to  my  heart, 
that  is  safe." 

"  You  boast,  do  you  ?  I  presume  I  shall  see  you  in  a 
short  time  sighing  over  some  ringlet,  having  surrendered 
without  resistance,  and  unconditionally." 

"  Do  you  ?  I  fear  you  will  be  mistaken,  then.  I  may  be 
woman's  slave  in  reality.  Her  smiles  the  very  light  of  my 
existence  ;  but  unless  assured  of  a  just  return  of  my  affec- 
tions, she  shall  never  know  it." 

"  None  so  brave  as  those  who  never  met  a  foe.  Why, 
Mich,  you  have  never  been  tested,  you  don't  know  your  own 
heart." 

"  I  fear  I  do  too  well,  for  my  own  happiness." 

"  Nonsense,  Mich  ;  why,  I  expect  you  will  be  in  love 
with  some  of  the  pretty  girls  here  before  you  leave  to-night. 
It  will  not  be  in  your  nature  to  resist  their  fascinations  ; 


324       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

but  here  comes  the  doctor,  with  one  of  the  sweetest  crea- 
tures in  the  city  hanging  on  his  arm." 

"  Good  evening,  Mich.  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  the 
doctor. 

Mich  responded  to  the  cordial  salutation  in  a  quiet  man- 
ner. Anna  then  introduced  him  to  some  of  the  ladies  near, 
and  he  was  soon  engaged  in  a  lively  conversation  with  them. 
She  left  the  group,  to  entertain  some  who  were  not  agreeable 
enough  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  gentlemen. 

Thus  the  evening  had  nearly  passed,  when  supper  being 
announced  the  company  filed  off  for  the  refreshment  room. 
Anna  flitted  about  to  see  that  none  were  neglected — she 
went  through  the  now  deserted  rooms  to  be  sure  that  no 
shy  and  timid  girl  was  left  for  the  want  of  a  beau.  What 
was  her  surprise  to  see  Mich  leaning  out  of  one  of  the  open 
windows,  apparently  absorbed  in  thought — she  approached 
him  saying  : 

"  Mich,  why  are  you  not  in  the  supper-room  ?  rather  gaze 
at  the  moon  than  eat  ?" 

"  No,  not  that  exactly.  But,  Anna,  I  feel  out  of  place 
here.  You  know  how  ignorant  I  am  of  all  the  customs 
of  society.  It  is  the  truth,  Anna — I  dreaded  coming  here 
to-night  worse  than  I  did  my  examination." 

"  How  foolish  for  you  to  feel  so,  Mich,  I  do  not  want  to 
flatter  you — but  really  you  might  be  the  envy  of  half  the 
beaux  in  town  if  you  chose.  All  you  need  is  a  little  more 
confidence.  Come  along  with  me,  you  must  go  and  taste 


NOON-DAY     OF     LIFE.  325 

some  of  the  delicacies  that  I  have  had  prepared  for  the 


occasion." 

"It  is  foolish,  perhaps,  but  you  know  I  have  never 
mingled  in  fashionable  society,  and  I  feel  awkward." 

"  You  must  not  feel  so — and  it  is  time  you  went  into 
society  a  little  more  than  you  have  formerly  done.  I  shall 
want  a  beau  after  now,  when  the  doctor  will  not  care  to 
escort  me,  and  I  intend  to  call  upon  you  sometimes." 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  serve  you  in  any  way  that  I 
am  able.  Perhaps,  under  your  tuition,  I  may  learn  the 
habits  and  customs  of  society,  so  that  I  shall  not  shock 
others  by  my  blunders." 

"  I  think  you  will  be  an  apt  scholar — come  I  will  give 
the  first  lesson  now  ;  lead  me  to  the  supper  room  ;  I  will 
take  your  arm  thus  ;  see  how  they  crowd  ;  there  goes  a  cup 
of  coffee  ;  that  gentleman  was  careless  ;  a  handsome  dress 
spoiled  in  consequence.  Here  is  a  vacant  place,  I  will  stand 
here  ;  now  you  go  to  the  table  and  get  me  a  dish  of  ice- 
cream," said  Anna,  as  she  stopped  near  the  door.  Her 
attention  was  immediately  attracted  to  something  else,  and 
she  stood  some  time  before  Mich  returned  with  the  cream. 
She  received  it,  saying,  "  Now  go  and  get  one  for  yourself, 
and  we  will  enjoy  them  together." 

"  Thank  you,  Anna,  I  do  not  wish  any.  Will  you  have 
something  more  ?" 

"  I  am  very  thirsty — I  would  like  a  glass  of  lemonade, 
you  will  find  it  on  the  sideboard." 


326 

"  Mich  moved  off  after  some,  and  Anna  went  on  gaily 
chatting  with  those  near  her 

When  Mich  returned  with  the  lemonade,  his  face  was 
flushed  and  he  seemed  very  much  embarrassed.  Anna 
noticed  it,  but  as  others  were  standing  near,  she  did  not 
question  him  as  to  the  cause  ;  although  she  felt  conscious 
something  unpleasant  had  occurred.  The  guests  were 
returning  to  the  parlors,  but  few  remained  in  the  supper 
room,  when  Anna  spoke  to  Mich. 

"  Why  won't  you  eat  something  ?  Try  some  cream,  Mich, 
are  you  not  fond  of  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  I  do  not  care  to  eat  anything  now,"  he  replied, 
while  a  shade  passed  over  his  fine  face. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Mich  ?  Has  anything  unpleasant 
occurred  ?" 

"  When  you  sent  me  for  the  lemonade  some  one  jostled 
me,  and  I  spilled  a  glass  full  upon  a  lady's  dress  who  stood 
near." 

"  That  is  unfortunate,  but  never  mind.  Do  not  let  that 
mishap  destroy  your  appetite." 

Just  at  this  moment  Edward  Randall  came  along  with  a 
young  lady  hanging  on  his  arm,  and  stopped  in  front  of 
Mich  and  Anna,  saying,  in  his  most  insinuating  manner,  as 
he  extended  his  hand  to  Mich  : 

"  How  are  you,  Lynch  ?  Have  not  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  you  in  a  long  time — Miss  Hervey  tells  me  you  have 
been  admitted.  Allow  me  to  wish  you  success." 


NOON-DAY     OF     LIFE.  827 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Mich,  very  gravely,  as  he  took 
the  offered  hand. 

"  Where  do  you  hang  out  your  shingle  ?" 

"  I  have  not  determined  where  I  shall  locate  permanently. 
I  intend  remaining  with  Mr.  Pierce  for  the  present,  as  he 
has  made  me  very  advantageous  proposals." 

"Mr.  Randall,  what  have  you  decided  upon  doing?  I 
suppose  you  have  entirely  given  up  the  idea  of  entering  the 
ministry  ?"  said  Anna. 

"  Oh,  yes,  long  ago — in  fact  I  never  intended  doing  so — 
that  was  the  governor's  whim." 

"Well,  for  once,  I  think  you  are  sensible — for  you 
certainly  are  not  fit  for  so  sacred  an  office — you  are  not 
devotional  enough." 

"  Indeed  1  Miss  Hervey,  you  mistake  my  character  entire- 
ly— I  am  all  devotion — one  of  the  blindest  of  worshippers  at 
the  shrine  of  beauty — Miss  Hunt  defend  me — say,  am  I 
not  ?"  said  Randall,  turning  to  the  lady  with  him. 

"  I  fear  my  defence  will  do  but  little  good,  for  I  am  not 
well  enough  acquainted  with  you  to  know,"  was  the  re- 

WF5 

"  Well,  I  can  tell  you.  He  is  devotional,  but  the  deities 
he  worships  are  changed  with  the  hour,"  observed  Anna. 

"  I  protest  against  that — you  wrong  me." 

"Do  I  ?  now  be  candid  and  tell  me  how  many  ladies 
you  have  sworn  eternal  fidelity  to  this  evening  ?"  said  Anna, 
laughing. 

"  Lynch,  help  me  !   Is  not  that  a  leading  question  ?  Am  I 


328      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBBOKER. 

bound  to  answer,  if  by  so  doing  I  criminate  myself  ?"  said 
Randall,  in  mock  distress. 

"  In  the  court  of  love,  I  presume,  the  rules  will  favor  the 
guilty — consequently  you  may  shield  yourself  under  them." 

"  You  are  rather  severe — I  believe  all  are  held  innocent 
until  proved  guilty.  I  may  admire  the  whole  sex  and 
delight  in  their  society,  and  still  worship  one  supremely." 

"  I  think  that  hardly  possible.  If  our  affections  are 
centred  in  one — whether  the  affections  be  returned  or  not — 
the  mind  cannot  admit  the  thought  of  another,"  said  Mich, 
earnestly. 

"  You  are  too  serious  altogether,  Lynch,  you  do  not 
understand  woman's  heart  at  all.  To  make  ourselves 
attractive  to  them,  we  must  not  sell  our  love  too  cheaply, 
enhance  our  value  by  creating  the  doubt  of  obtaining  our 
priceless  affection.  An  object  is  prized,  you  know,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  it." 

"  It  may  be  so  in  some  instances,  but,  in  my  own  case, 
I  should  doubt  my  power  to  keep  a  heart  that  had  been 
won  by  stratagem,"  said  Lynch. 

"  So  I  suppose  you  would  walk  up  to  your  lady  love  and 
say,  '  Here  I  am — take  me  or  not.  If  you  cast  me  aside,  I 
shall  be  good  for  nothing  to  any  body  else/  instead  of  say- 
'  the  ladies  are  all  dying  for  me — but  as  a  favor  to  you,  I 
will  love  you  and  make  you  my  wife,' "  answered  Randall. 

"You  wholly  mistake  me,  I  should  never  place  myself 
in  a  position  where  there  was  the  least  probability  of  my 
being  rejected — and  I  certainly  think  that  a  man  does  not 


NOON-DAY     OF     LIFE.  329 

make  himself  more  worthy  of  affection  by  throwing  his 
attentions  and  the  best  feelings  of  his  heart  broadcast 
among  his  female  friends,  or  more  likely  to  be  accepted  by 
a  true  woman,  than  if  he  had  devoted  himself  to  the  one 
whose  favor  he  would  win." 

"  Well,  suppose  that  one  was  not  willing  to  receive  such 
devoted  attention — or  for  other  reasons  it  should  not  be 
practicable  to  display  those  feelings — what  would  you  do  in 
such  a  case  ?" 

"  I  would  confine  them  to  my  own  breast  until  snch  time 
as  I  might  safely  display  them  without  fear  of  repulse,"  said 
Mich,  looking  at  Randall. 

"  Such  cool,  calculating  love  as  that,  no  lady  would  accept, 
I  know — what  do  you  say,  ladies  ?" 

"  Well,  I  for  one  would  not  be  content  with  a  divided 
heart,  and  yet  I  should  want  an  earnest,  unselfish,  eloquent, 
lover;  perfection  is  what  I  expect.  My  beau  ideal  of  a  lover 
has  never  been  personified  I  fear,"  said  Anna,  gaily.  Just 
then  a  gentleman  from  the  parlor  approached,  saying  : 

"  Come,  Randall,  we  are  waiting  for  you,  to  complete  the 
set." 

The  party  moved  towards  the  parlor — as  they  did  so, 
Mich  said,  in  a  low  tone  to  Anna,  "  Your  friend,  Randall,  has 
become  quite  a  lady's  man  I  see — he  seems  very  attractive." 

"  Yes,  he  is  so,  full  of  life  and  fond  of  gaiety  ;  he  is  an 
excellent  gallant,  but  a  great  flatterer." 

"  That  pleases  the  sex,  I  suppose.  Is  that  his  greatest 
charm  ? 


330     OLD     HATTN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  It  may  be  with  some,  but,  in  my  opinion  it  is  his  great- 
est fault,  not  that  I  think  he  intends  any  to  be  deceived 
by  his  badinage,  for  it  is  mere  words — froth  upon  the  surface. 
I  think  him  capable  of  a  deep  and  earnest  affection,  but 
then  he  will  not  be  so  likely  to  be  credited  when  he  avows  it." 

"  Nor  so  likely  to  prate  of  it — sincere  affection  hides  it- 
self— it  is  timid  and  shy.  I  should  be  more  sure  of  the 
regard  of  one  I  loved  if  it  was  never  expressed  by  word, 
than  if  she  talked  of  it." 

"You  talk  as  though  you  had  the  experience  of  a  lover." 

"  I  need  not  that  to  teach  me  '  they  love  least  who  let 
men  know  their  love.' " 

"  Well,  I  am  not  versed  in  the  language  of  the  heart, 
but  presume  it  is  so.  When  I  have  had  some  experience  I 
shall  be  a  better  judge." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  have  not  yet  had  any  experience  ? 
Have  not  the  mysteries  of  love  ever  been  unfolded  to  you  ? 
I  supposed  young  ladies,  surrounded  as  you  are,  by  friends, 
could  not  reach  eighteen  years, '  heart-whole,  and  fancy-free. ' " 

"  Why  not,  pray  ?  Do  you  think  ladies  more  susceptible 
of  the  tender  passion  than  your  own  sex  ?" 

"  No,  less  so  ;  but  their  vanity  is  gratified  by  the  admira- 
tion they  receive,  and  they  often  give  in  return  for  a  sincere 
and  deep  affection — only  gratitude,  and  think  they  feel  love, 
which  I  consider  the  cause  of  many  of  the  unhappy  marriages 
now-a-days." 

"  It  seems  an  impossibility  that  one  could  be  deceived  in 
their  own  feelings,  in  such  a  matter.  I  am  sure  I  could  not 


NOON-DAY     OF     LIFE.  331 

be.  You  seem  to  understand  the  matter  so  well,  perhaps  you 
can  give  some  good  reason  why  a  lady  should  be  in  greater 
danger  of  self  deception  than  a  gentleman." 

"  Custom  demands  that  gentlemen  should  make  the  first 
advances,  and  custom  also  has  made  the  name  of  an  old 
maid  the  abhorrence  of  all  ladies  ;  so,  to  escape  the  danger 
of  becoming  one,  many  accept  the  attentions  and  hand  of 
the  first  man  that  offers.  Their  vanity  is  gratified  by  the 
preference,  and  often  they  vow  to  love  one  for  whom  they 
feel  not  the  least  shadow  of  affection." 

"  Mich,  you  certainly  do  not  entertain  so  mean  an  opinion 
of  my  sex  as  that  ?  Do  you  think  that  I  would  marry  a 
man  that  I  did  not  love  ?" 

"  I  trust  not  ;  for  your  own  sake,  but  you  do  not  know 
your  own  heart." 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  marry  to  escape  being  an  old 
maid  ?" 

"  No,  but  suppose  some  gentleman  who  was  fine-looking, 
agreeable,  intelligent,  and  very  much  admired  by  all  your 
friends,  should,  by  his  devoted  attentions  to  you,  show  you 
that  he  preferred  you  to  all  others,  do  you  not  think  that 
an  interest  would  be  created  in  you  for  him,  and  would  you 
not  be  influenced  to  accept  his  hand,  and  still  not  feel  real 
affection  for  him  ?" 

"  No,  I  think  not.  If  he  was  all  that  you  have  pictured 
him,  why  should  he  not  gain  my  affection  ?" 

"  Because  you  could  not  esteem  him,  and  without  that, 
sincere  love  cannot  exist." 


332      OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBBOKEE. 

"There  I  think  you  are  right,  but  without  esteem,  I 
assure  you  I  would  not  marry." 

"You  think  you  would  not.  But  I  fear  you  are  one 
whose  fancy  might  be  captivated,  and  you  would  think  you 
loved,  especially  if  the  faults  of  the  person  were  never  per- 
mitted to  reach  your  knowledge." 

"You  think  then,  that  my  reason  and  judgment  would 
remain  neutral  in  an  affair  of  marriage  ?  you  pay  me  a  very 
poor  compliment.  I  rather  pride  myself  upon  my  good 
sense,  and  you  are  mistaken  if  you  think  good  looks  and  a 
persuasive  tongue  all  that  are  necessary  to  win  my  heart. 
But  what  has  come  across  you,  Mich  ?  love  and  marriage 
seem  to  interest  you  very  much  this  evening  ;  have  you 
commenced  the  study  of  love,  now,  that  you  have  finished 
that  of  law  ?" 

"  I  should  be  a  ready  scholar,  if  I  could  find  a  willing  and 
competent  teacher." 

"  I  think  you  would  be  difficult  to  please — you  would  look 
for  perfection  and  not  be  suited  with  less — but  be  careful, 
Mich,  you  may  be  the  dupe  of  some  vain,  self-deceived  girl. 
I  rather  think  you  are  in  as  much  danger  as  I  am,  so  beware. 
Just  imagine  yourself  the  victim  of  unrequited  love.  Poor 
Mich — how  I  should  pity  you,"  said  Anna,  laughingly,  as  she 
turned  to  answer  some  remark  addressed  to  her. 

For  one  instant,  Mich's  cheek  paled  with  the  pang  which 
Anna's  careless  words  sent  through  his  heart,  and  he  turned 
and  walked  away  to  an  open  window.  He  was  not  un- 
observed. Edward  Randall's  keen  eye  had  watched  him 


NOON-DAY     OF     LIFE.  333 

narrowly  during  his  conversation  with  Anna,  and,  although 
he  was  mingling  in  the  dance,  not  a  shade  or  expression  had 
escaped  him.  The  secret  that  Mich  had  so  carefully  guarded 
lest  he  should  betray  it,  was  discovered  by  the  one  he  most 
feared  ;  but  Eandall  was  too  polite  to  use  that  knowledge, 
except  for  his  own  advantage. 

The  night  waned,  and  the  guests  departed — Mich  with  the 
others  bade  Anna  good  night,  and  left  her,  oppressed  with 
an  unaccountable  sadness.  Randall  lingered  till  all  had 
left,  and  then  remained  for  some  time  commenting  upon 
the  different  persons  who  had  been  present.  Of  Mich, 
he  spoke  in  the  highest  terms,  but  contrived  to  mingle 
with  his  praises,  remarks  that  brought  vividly  to  Anna's 
mind  Mich's  deficiences  in  etiquette,  as  contracted  with  his 
own  polished  manners. 

He  then  changed  the  conversation  gradually  to  herself, 
insinuating  the  most  artful  flattery  in  all  he  said.  When  he 
thought  he  had  made  such  an  impression  that  his  words  and 
manner  would  be  remembered,  he  bade  her  good  night,  in 
the  most  devoted. manner,  and  left. 

Anna  immediately  sought  her  own  room,  after  bidding 
the  doctor  good  night.  Randall's  pleasing  face  and  persua- 
sive words  and  voice  were  hi  her  thoughts,  till  weary  with 
fatigue  she  sank  to  sleep. 


334        OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

SNARING     THE     BIRD. 

"  GOOD  morning,  Anna.     Rather  late — " 

"  Good  morning,  doctor.  I  am  sorry  I  have  kept  you 
waiting  for  your  breakfast,  but  the  dissipation  of  last  even- 
ing has  made  me  very  languid,"  said  Anna. 

"  Languid — that  means  lazy,  I  suppose.  Well,  child, 
rouse  yourself — you  look  sleepy.  You  must  go  out. after 
breakfast  and  take  a  long  walk — that  will  make  you  feel 
better.  There  is  but  little  pleasure  in  parties,  after  all,  is 
there,  Anna  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  presume  those  here  enjoyed  themselves  very 
much  ;  but  you  must  remember  I  was  the  hostess  last  even- 
ing, and  the  excitement  of  receiving  my  guests,  and  the 
fear  lest  they  should  not  enjoy  themselves  was  very  fa- 
tiguing." 

"  Well,  do  you  feel  paid  for  your  trouble  and  fatigue  ?" 

"  Most  certainly  I  do.  I  feel  rather  uncomfortable  this 
morning,  but  that  will  soon  pass  off,  and  I  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  that  I  afforded  my  friends  an  evening's 
enjoyment." 


SNARING     THE     BIRD.  335 

"  How  many,  among  those  here,  do  you  suppose  really 
enjoyed  themselves,  and  went  home  with  none  but  pleasant 
feelings  in  their  minds  ?" 

"Really,  doctor,  that  would  be  a  difficult  question  to 
answer,  and  I  do  not  feel  responsible  for  any  unpleasant 
feelings  that  may  have  been  aroused.  I  feel  conscious  of 
having  exerted  myself  to  the  utmost  to  entertain  all  here, 
and  if  I  failed,  I  regret  it." 

"  You  did  well,  Anna.  I  could  but  think  last  evening,  as 
I  sat  and  watched  you,  how  few  would  appreciate  the  efforts 
you  were  making,  and  how  few  thanks  you  would  receive  for 
your  trouble." 

"  Why,  doctor — why  do  you  feel  so  censorious  this  morn- 
ing ?  I  am  inclined  to  think  late  hours  do  not  agree  with  you." 

"  You  are  right,  Anna,  I  do  feel  rather  ill-natured  this 
morning." 

"  What  is  the  cause  ?  Anything  unpleasant  occur  to  you 
last  evening  ?" 

"  No,  not  to  me." 

"  Who,  then  ?" 

"  Well,  the  truth  is,  Anna,  I  was  so  vexed  last  evening 
about  Mich,  that  I  have  not  yet  recovered." 

"Mich?    What  did  he  do  ?" 

"  Do  ?  He  didn't  do  anything,  and  that  is  the  worst  of 
it,  and  he  got  the  credit  of  doing  considerable." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?    Do  explain  1" 

"  His  feelings  were  hurt,  and  he  was  very  much  mortified 
several  times  during  the  evening  1" 


336      OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,  but  how  did  it  happen  ?" 

"  Well,  he  went  to  get  a  glass  of  lemonade  for  some 
one — " 

"  And  spilled  it.  That  I  knew,  for  it  was  for  me,  and  he 
told  me  of  it." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  what  that  ill-natured,  proud  Miss  F 

said  ?" 

"  No.    What  did  she  say  ?" 

"  '  Who  is  that  boor  ?' " 

"  Did  Jane  F say  that  ?  I  am  astonished.  Did 

Mich  hear  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  certainly  he  did." 

"  What  did  he  do  ?" 

"  He  begged  her  pardon,  and  passed  on,  while  his  face 
crimsoned  with  mortification." 

"  Did  any  one  answer  her  ?" 

"  Yes.  Some  one  whispered — '  not  a  boor,  but  a  bog- 
trotter  just  from  ould  Ireland.' " 

"  Who  said  that  2" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  had  turned  away.  There  were  several 
standing  near — the  voice  sounded  to  me  like  Randall's." 

"You  wrong  Edward  in  thinking  for  one  moment,  that  he 
would  make  such  a  remark." 

"Perhaps  I  do.  But  from  what  I  heard  a  young  man 
say  afterwards,  I  know  that  some  one  intentionally  jostled 
Mich's  arm." 

"Is  it  possible  any  one  here  could  be  so  ill-bred  ?  I 
thought  it  only  carelessness  or  awkwardness  in  Mich.  Why 


•~  •    '      r,  '  '   • 

SNAKING     THE     BIRD.  337 

should  he   have   been   selected  as   the   subject  for    rude- 
ness ?" 

I  don't  know.  You  say  he  is  awkward.  Perhaps  he  is, 
but  you  know  he  gives  more  attention  to  his  books  than 
to  the  conventionalities  of  society." 

"  I  think  that  is  so.  He  told  me  he  disliked  coming,  and 
I  presume  he  feels  conscious  of  his  unacquaiutance  with  all 
the  forms  of  etiquette,  but  he  need  not,  for  he  is  decidedly  a 
fine-looking  and  noble-minded  man.  He  has  not  the  polish 
and  ease  of  Edward,  and  probably  never  would  attain  it, 
but  he  would  soon  lose  that  sense  of  awkwardness,  which  is 
now  the  greatest  bar  to  his  enjoyment,  if  he  would  mingle 
freely  in  society  as  he  might  do." 

"  I  presume  so,  but  whether  it  is  worth  while  to  go 
through  so  much  to  get  so  little,  is  doubtful  in  my  mind. 
You  say  Edward  is  polished — so  he  is — but  Mich's  sincerity 
is  worth  much  more  in  my  estimation." 

"  Why,  doctor,  do  you  think  Edward  insincere  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  he  is.  Is  it  possible  for  him  to  feel  all  the 
heights  and  depths  of  passion  that  he  expressed  last  even- 
ing ?" 

"  You  do  not  understand  him  at  all,  doctor.  His  con- 
versation was  merely  light  and  frivolous  talk,  to  entertain 
for  the  moment.  I  really  feel  very  much  indebted  to  him, 
for  he  assisted  in  making  the  evening  pass  pleasantly,  more 
than  any  other  person,  or  in  fact,  all  of  the  others/' 

"  Humph  !  Well,  I  am  glad  of  it.  What  is  he  doing, 
Anna  ?  What  business  does  he  propose  following  ?" 

15 


338       OLD      HAt-N,      THE      PAWNBROKER. 

"  He  told  me  last  night  that  he  had  decided  to  remain  in 
the  city,  and  in  the  situation  he  now  occupies." 

"  What  is  that  ?" 

"A  situation  in  a  commission  house.  It  will  be  an 
active  life,  and  that  he  will  like." 

"  Is  he  fitted  for  the  business  ?  He  is  late  in  deciding 
what  shall  be  his  occupation  ?" 

"That  is  in  consequence  of  his  father's  strong  desire  to 
have  him  enter  the  ministry.  He  would  not  until  quite 
recently  consent  to  any  other  plan." 

"  He  has  wholly  misunderstood  Edward's  character,  if  he 
has  supposed  he  would  be  fit  for  that  office." 

"  I  do  not  think  Edward  suited  for  the  calling,  at  any 
rate,  not  with  his  present  feelings,  although  inclination  is  the 
only  bar  in  the  way  of  his  becoming  eminent  in  that  profes- 
sion— for  he  certainly  has  talents  of  high  order,  and  a  fine 
voice  and  manner." 

"Fine  voice  and  manner ! — that  is  all  that  is  necessary  to 
win  a  woman's  heart." 

"  Say  not  so,  doctor,  I  hope  you  do  not  think  that  is  all 
that  is  necessary  to  win  my  heart  ?" 

"  I  hope  not — but  if  not,  you  will  be  an  exception  to  the 
general  rule." 

"  I  shall  be,  then.  For  with  me  a  man's  principles,  and 
disposition,  will  weigh  much  more  than  mere  appearance  or 
accomplishments." 

"  Child,  you  do  not  know  yourself — you  know  not  your 
weakness  till  you  have  been  tried." 


SNARING      THE     BIRD.  339 

"  That  is  very  true — but  I  do  know  my  love  of  truth  and 
integrity,  and  a  person  in  whom  these  are  wanting  I  can 
not  esteem." 

"  Those  deficiencies  might  be  hidden  from  you,  until  you 
were  irrevocably  bound  to  the  person  seeking  you." 

"  That  is  scarcely  possible,  I  would  not  yield  my  heart 
and  hand  in  that  unquestioning  manner." 

"  God  grant  you  may  not  be  deceived,  my  dear  girl,  for 
to  you,  it  would  be  a  life-long  misery,  to  find  yourself  the 
wife  of  one  you  could  not  esteem." 

"  It  makes  me  shudder  to  think  of  such  a  possibility — 
but  what  a  serious  strain  we  have  got  in — heigh-ho.  Talk- 
ing of  husbands  and  hearts  as  though  they  were  at  my 
command.  I  am  too  well  satisfied  with  my  present  situa- 
tion and  freedom,  to  lightly  resign  them,  and  I  hope  you  will 
be  in  no  haste  to  part  with  me  ?" 

"  No,  no,  child.  If  I  could  have  my  own  way,  you  should 
retain  your  freedom  for  many  years — but  that  is  not  possi- 
ble, so  I  must  prepare  my  mind  to  part  with  you,  for  you 
are  sure  to  be  sought  by  some  one." 

"Well,  if  I  may  wear  the  bonds  lightly,  I  will  wear  them 
willingly,  but  not  otherwise.  I  shall  be  difficult  to  please, 
so  do  not  let  the  fear  of  parting  with  me  trouble  you  for  a 
long  time.  I  promise  you  one  thing,  that  I  will  not  change 
my  own  name  for  that  of  another  without  your  consent." 

"  I  will  remember  that,  Anna,  and  assert  my  right,  if  I 
think  you  are  deceived  in  the  one  you  love." 

"  Well,  do  so.     I  promise  you  I  will  never  go  contrary  to 


340      OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER 

your  wishes  if  you  will  prove  to  me  tnat  your  objections  are 
just." 

"  You  say  that  carelessly,  Anna." 

"  I  will  abide  by  it  though,  under  any  circumstances,"  said 
Anna,  as  they  rose  from  the  table. 

"  Well,  well,  I  shall  use  the  right  you  have  given  me,  if  I 
should  ever  think  it  necessary." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  I  How  serious  you  look,  doctor.  Go  with 
me  and  take  a  walk,  will  you  ?  I  think  you  need  it  more 
than  I  do." 

"Yes,  I  will  go — get  ready." 

Anna  left  the  room  to  prepare  for  her  walk,  and  the  doc- 
tor paced  the  floor  ejaculating  in  his  accustomed  man- 
ner. 

"  Humph  1  I  see  it — Too  bad — He  shall  not — By  George 
he  shall  not — Mich's  worth  a  dozen  like  him — Poor  fellow — 
Weft,  well." 

As  Anna  entered  the  room  attired  for  her  walk,  she  heard 
a  deep  sigh  that  just  then  escaped  the  doctor,  and  looked  at 
him  in  surprise,  for  she  had  seldom  seen  him  depressed  in 
spirit,  but  she  concluded  that  it  was  in  consequence  of  los- 
ing his  usual  hours  of  rest,  which  to  him  of  late  years  had 
become  indispensable. 

They  wandered  out  into  the  suburbs  of  the  city,  walking 
briskly  and  conversing  upon  different  topics.  Soon  Anna's 
languor  had  vanished,  as  also  the  doctor's  depression,  and 
they  returned  home  in  fine  spirits. 

When  Anna  entered  the  parlor  she  found  upon  the  table  a 


SNAKING     THE    BIED.  341 

beaut  ifnl  bouquet.     She  inquired  of  the  servant  wno  had 
left  it. 

"  A  boy,  and  here  is  a  note  that  came  with  it,"  said  the 
servant,  pointing  to  a  delicate,  perfumed  note  that  lay  near 
it,  and  had  not  been  perceived. 

The  doctor  stood  observing  Anna  as  she  hastily  opened 
the  note,  and  he  saw  the  flush  of  pleasure  as  she  perused  it. 

"  This  is  unfortunate — I  am  sorry  I  was  not  home,"  said 
Anna. 

"  What  is  it,  Anna  ?' 

"  There  ought  to  have  been  an  answer  returned  to  this. 
Edward  wants  me  to  go  out  on  horseback  this  afternoon.  It 
will  be  delightful — the  air  is  so  fine." 

"  Humph.     Break  your  neck  riding  on  horseback." 

"Why,  doctor,  what  has  come  over  the  spirit  of  your 
dream — you  have  always  praised  my  riding,  and  was  the  first 
one  to  put  me  on  a  horse." 

"  Well,  riding  with  me  is  a  different  thing  from  riding  under 
the  protection  of  such  a  hare-brained  young  fellow  as  Ran- 
dall." 

"  Ha  I  ha  1  ha  !  I  shall  have  to  tell  him  of  that.  You 
know  I  have  perfect  command  of  my  horse,  and  of  course  I 
would  ride  no  other,  and  besides  that,  there  is  a  large  party 
going  out.  I  think  it  will  be  very  pleasant.  You  certainly 
do  not  object  ?" 

"  No,  nonsense.  Go  along  and  answer  your  note.  You, 
of  course,  are  old  enough  to  judge  of  these  things  yourself." 

Without  waiting  to  hear  more,  Anna  left  the  parlor  to 


342      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

answer  the  note,  accepting  the  invitation.  As  she  did  so  the 
doctor  commenced  pacing  the  room  in  a  troubled  manner, 
muttering  : 

"  Humph,  I  see  it  is  no  use.  I  believe  he  is  an  unprin- 
cipled fellow  though.  I  can  read  him,  no  mistake,  he  means 
to  win  her.  Poor  thing.  Perhaps  I  am  deceived.  Hope  I 
am.  Well,  well,  I  am  a  foolish  old  man  that  is  certain.  I 
won't  think  of  it  any  more." 

The  note  that  Anna  had  received  was  written  in  the  most 
faultless  manner.  Not  one  word  of  flattery,  nothing  to 
offend  her  nicest  sense  of  refinement.  Randall  had  read  her 
character,  and  well  knew  when  to  flatter  and  when  to  refrain  ; 
he  knew  that  though  he  might  with  impunity  say  the  most 
complimentary  things  to  her  in  a  jesting  manner  and  in  the 
presence  of  others,  it  would  not  do  to  use  similar  language 
to  her  seriously  or  when  alone.  She  called  it  nonsense,  and 
deceived  herself  by  thinking  that  it  had  no  effect  upon  her 
mind  ;  but  Randall  knew  better — he  knew  that  so  long  as 
he  did  not  offend  her  delicacy  by  coarse  flattery  at  inoppor- 
tune tunes,  he  was  steadily  gaining  in  her  favor  by  the  very 
arts  which  she  despised. 

Thus  it  is.  Through  her  vanity  is  woman  blindly  led  on, 
to  the  adventuring  of  life's  hopes  and  happiness  upon  some 
frail  bark,  that  her  judgment,  reason,  and  every  higher  faculty 
of  which  she  is  possessed,  would  condemn,  if  they  could  be 
aroused  to  exert  their  influence. 

At  the  time  appointed,  Randall  appeared  mounted  on  a 
showy  animal — he  was  really  very  attractive  as  he  sat,  and 


SNARING     THE     BIRD.  343 

Anna's  cheek  flushed  with  pleasure  when  she  glanced  out  of 
her  window  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  fine  figure  and 
handsome  face.  With  his  assistance,  she  was  soon  sitting  on 
her  pony,  and  in  readiness  to  start.  The  doctor  stood  near, 
and  as  Anna  bent  her  head  to  speak  to  him  at  parting,  he 
thought  she  was  more  beautiful  than  ever.  The  dark  green 
riding  habit  and  hat  were  very  becoming,  and  her  hazel 
eyes  were  sparkling  with  pleasure,  as  she  whispered  : 

"  Now,  doctor,  do  not  worry  about  me,  I  shall  come 
safely  back  again." 

"Well,  well — Randall  be  careful,  and  do  not  let  Anna 
break  her  neck  while  you  are  gone." 

"  Never  fear,  doctor.  Anna,  your  friends  seem  unwil- 
ling to  trust  you  with  me,"  said  Randall  as  they  started. 

"  I  never  knew  him  so  fearful  of  accident.  If  I  believed 
in  omens  I  should  say  it  augured  something  unpleasant." 

"  Rather  think  it  foretells  increase  of  hope,  happiness. 
It  does  to  me — for  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  rode  with 
you.  It  will  be  one  of  the  bright  days  in  ray  calendar." 

"  I  think  they  must  all  be  bright,  for  I  suppose  every 
interview  with  a  lady  is  marked  as  a  bright  day." 

"  All  days  are  bright,  certainly  when  in  the  presence  of 
your  sex — but  not  equally  so." 

"Where  are  we  to  meet  the  rest  of  the  party,  Edward?" 

"At  B house,  we  will  stop  there  to  rest  and  all 

return  in  company — we  shall  in  this  way,  enjoy  the  pleasure 
of  a  tete-a-tete  ride  and  the  company  of  others  too.  Do 
you  like  the  plan  ?" 


314:       OLD     II  A  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Very  well,  but  why  did  not  the  party  join  before  leaving 
the  city  ?" 

"  I  for  one  thought  this  way  much  preferable,  perhaps  I 
was  too  selfish  in  desiring  to  enjoy  your  society  alone  for  a 
short  time.  I  hope  I  have  not  been  too  presuming  ?" 

"  Why,  Edward,  how  very  ceremonious  you  have  become. 
Any  one  would  suppose  you  were  addressing  a  stranger, 
instead  of  one  you  have  known  for  nearly  your  whole  life- 
time." 

"  All  my  life,  Anna,  for  the  day  I  first  saw  you  was  the 
beginning  of  my  existence,"  said  Edward,  in  a  deep  and 
earnest  tone,  as  he  bent  his  burning  glance  upon  her. 

Anna  laughed,  and  turned  away  to  hide  the  blush  called 
up  by  his  words  and  manner,  saying,  gaily  : 

"  You  are  a  very  large  boy  of  your  age,  then — you  must 
be  younger  than  myself,  if  you  date  the  beginning  of  your 
existence  when  I  was  ten  years  old.  I  do  not  wonder  the 
doctor  was  afraid  to  trust  me  with  you." 

"  Was  he  afraid  to  trust  you  with  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  he  said  I  would  certainly  break  my  neck — you  were 
too  young  and  hare-brained." 

"Ah I  I  am  sorry  I  have  not  the  doctor's  confidence  for 
even  a  short  ride,  for  I  should  be  only  too  happy,  to  attend 
you  through  life  and  protect  you  from  harm.  I  hope  you 
do  not  share  the  doctor's  feeling." 

"  I  think  the  doctor's  judgment  in  all  cases  reliable,"  said 
Anna,  archly. 

"  In  affairs  of  the  heart  ?" 


SNARING     THE     BIRD.  345 

"  I  presume  so — I  have  never  had  an  opportunity  of  test- 
ing it  in  such  a  manner." 

"  How  far  would  you  be  guided  by  him  ?  Would  you 
follow  his  advice  if  it  was  contrary  to  the  dictates  of  your 
own  heart  ?" 

"  He  would  not  advise  anything  contrary  to  its  dictates 
without  sufficient  reason." 

"  Reasons  to  him  sufficient  might  be  powerless  to  con- 
vince you.  A  man  as  old  as  he,  who  has  never  known  what 
it  is  to  love,  is  not  competent  to  judge  in  such  a  mat- 
ter." 

"  His  sincere  affection  for  me  would  supply  all  that  he 
might  lack  in  experience." 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,  but  hope  not.  Anna,  do  you 
remember  the  time  you  came  to  my  father's  and  passed  the 
day,  that  first  time  ?" 

"  Certainly,  you  were  very  kind  to  me  that  day — amusing 
me  in  every  possible  manner.  Do  you  remember  you  read 
to  me  ?  I  thought  then  they  were  the  most  interesting  stories 
I  had  ever  heard." 

"  Remember  ! — yes,  I  could  not  well  forget  it.  Anna,  did 
you  know  that  you  made  a  conquest  that  day.  That  I  have 
been  your  slave  ever  since — I  have  been  in  chains  eight  long 
years." 

"  They  must  be  rusty  by  this  time,  and  easily  broken.  I 
should  advise  you  to  throw  them  off  if  they  are  galling," 
said  Anna,  gaily,  attempting  to  hide  her  embarrasment. 

"  Anna,  do  not  say  so,  bind  them,  rivet  them  firmer,  give 
15* 


346        OLD     H  A  U  N  ,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

ine  the  right  to  claim  you  publicly,  as  you  are,  the  arbitress 
of  my  destiny." 

"  Edward,  you  jest  with  serious  matters,"  said  Anna,  in  a 
trembling  voice. 

"  This  is  no  jest,  Anna,  decide  my  fate  now  and  forever — 
I  love  you — you  know  that  I  have  always  loved  you.  Will 
you  be  my  wife  ?"  said  Edward,  as  he  bent  forward,  and 
laid  his  hand  on  the  bridle  of  her  horse — determination  in 
every  muscle  of  his  face.  There  was  no  tenderness,  no  pas- 
sion in  his  look  or  tone,  only  determination  ;  he  understood 
the  influence  he  would  have  to  combat  with,  arid  he  would 
not  run  the  risk  of  losing  by  delay  all  that  he  so  much 
desired. 

The  blood  left  Anna's  face,  and  for  a  moment  she  vainly 
essayed  to  use  her  livid,  trembling  lips  to  answer.  Edward 
saw  the  struggle,  and,  reading  it  favorably,  his  features  re- 
laxed, and  in  a  low  musical  voice,  he  said  : 

"  Anna,  can  a  life  of  devotion  add  to  your  happiness  ?  Say 
but  one  word  to  assure  me  that  I  have  not  been  deceiving 
myself,  through  the  years  that  are  past,  that  I  am  not  de- 
ceived now." 

"  Oh  !  Edward,"  murmured  Anna,  as  she  bent  her  fore- 
head to  the  very  neck  of  her  horse  and  burst  in  tears. 

Edward  bit  his  lip  with  vexation  as  he  saw  the  tears — he 
did  not,  he  could  not  understand  such  a  nature  as  hers.  He 
waited  for  a  moment,  and  then  said,  as  he  rested  his  hand 
upon  her  shoulder  : 

"  Anna,  do  not  weep,  do  not  let  tears  dim  those  beautiful 


SNAKING     THE     BIRD.  347 

eyes.  I  hope  the  confession  of  my  secret  has  not  pained 
you." 

Anna  raised  her  head  and  wiped  away  the  tears  upon 
her  cheeks,  and  without  looking  at  him,  said  in  a  low 
voice  : — 

"  Edward,  you  have  surprised  me.  I  was  not  prepared  for 
this.  You  have  been  to  me  like  a  brother.  I  have  never 
thought  of  you  in  any  other  light." 

"  Think  of  me  then  from  this  time  as  your  devoted  lover, 
until  you  grant  me  the  privilege  of  a  dearer  title.  Will  you, 
Anna  ?" 

"  I  cannot  decide  this  subject  so  hastily." 

"  Anna,  your  heart  has  already  decided  it.  When  I  say 
to  you,  I  love  you,  what  is  its  response  ?  Tell  me,  I  want 
no  other  decision." 

Anna  turned  her  head  and  shot  one  quick,  shy  glance  from 
under  her  drooping  lids.  The  look  she  met,  sent  the  blood 
mantling  to  her  brow,  and  with  one  sharp  stroke  of  her 
riding  whip  she  made  her  horse  start  forward. 

Edward  looked  after  her,  while  a  satisfied  smile  spread 
over  his  features,  and  he  said  aloud  :  "  Mine  !"  Then  strok- 
ing his  horse  he  galloped  on,  and  overtaking  her,  said  : — 

"  Anna,  do  not  run  away  from  me,  for  if  I  read  the  lan- 
guage of  your  eyes  aright,  I  am  bound  to  follow  where  you 
lead." 

"  Perhaps  you  do  not  understand  their  language.  What 
did  they  tell  you?" 

"  That  I  might  keep  on  loving  you." 


348      OLD     HA  UN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  I  did  not  authorize  them  to  say  anything  of  the  kind." 

"  That  unsophisticated  heart  of  yours  did  then,  for  they 
surely  said  it.  I  am  in  earnest,  Anna.  I  cannot  bear  sus- 
pense. May  I  hope  to  call  you  mine  at  some  future  day  ?" 

"  Will  not  the  language  of  my  heart  and  eyes  satisfy  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  your  lips  will  confirm  it." 

"  What  would  you  have  them  say  ?" 

"  Simply— Yes.     Will  you  say  it  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Anna,  dearest  girl,  you  shall  never  regret  this.  I  will 
be  to  you  all  the  most  exacting  heart  could  wish.  This  even- 
ing I  will  be  with  you,  and  then  we  can  talk  over  our  plans. 
I  see  I  must  forego  that  pleasure  for  the  present,  for  some  of 
our  party  are  close  upon  us." 

Just  then  a  lady  and  gentleman  galloped  up  directly  be- 
hind them,  and  the  gentleman  exclaimed  : — 

"  Well  done,  Randall !  When  do  you  and  Miss  Hervey 
expect  to  reach  B House  ?" 

"  In  good  time.     We  must  be  near  there  already." 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!  Randall  you  are  losing  your  senses.  'Most 
there  !  You  have  been  on  the  way  long  enough,  that  is  true, 
but  you  have  two  miles  more  to  travel  before  you  get  your 
supper." 

"  We  do  not  believe  in  rushing  madly  through  the  world 
at  the  rate  that  you  would,  but  take  it  leisurely,"  was  the 
reply. 

After  some  more  bantering  on  the  part  of  both  lady  and 
gentleman  they  galloped  on.  The  time  passed  in  Hght  con- 


SNAKING     TUB     BIED.  349 

versation  as  they  all  rode  gaily  forward  until  they  reached 
their  destination.  Then  they  dismounted,  and  with  the  rest 
of  the  party,  who  were  all  assembled,  partook  of  supper,  spend- 
ing an  hour  very  agreeably.  The  whole  party  then  set  out 
for  home  in  company,  so  that  Randall  did  not  have  an  op- 
portunity for  further  intercourse  with  Anna.  She  was  glad 
of  the  relief,  for  even  now  the  thought  forced  itself  upon  her 
mind  that  she  had  very  hastily  decided  a  matter  that  was  to 
her  of  the  utmost  importance.  She  was  confused,  she  could 
hardly  convince  herself  that  it  was  not  all  a  dream.  But  she 
had  but  little  time  for  thought  among  the  laughter  and 
gaiety  that  pervaded  the  party.  It  was  late  in  the  evening 
when  they  reached  home,  and  when  Edward  assisted  Anna 
to  dismount,  he  said  : — 

"  You  are  tired  and  it  is  late  ;  I  will  not  come  in  to-night, 
but  to-morrow  evening  I  shall  come — will  you  be  at  home  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  good  night,"  said  Anna  as  he  led  her  up  the  steps. 
He  held  her  hand  for  ore  moment  as  if  he  had  something 
more  he  would  say,  but  finally  released  it,  remarking  : 

"  Good  night — dream- of  me." 

Anna  had  been  violently  struggling  for  two  long  hours, 
against  the  strong  tide  of  emotion  that  to  her  was  so  novel. 
Her  self-control  had  been  gradually  vanishing,  until  now  that 
there  was  no  longer  the  necessity  for  restraint,  she  burst  into 
tears  as  she  entered  the  house,  and  without  knowing  or 
caring  whether  she  was  observed,  threw  herself  upon  a  sofa 
and  sobbed  convulsively 

Doctor  Foster  was  there — he  had  been  watching  for  her-— 


350      OLD     HAUN^,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

had  seen  her  dismount,  and  noticed  Edward's  manner  as 
peculiar,  and  when  she  came  into  the  parlor,  he  started  to 
meet  her,  but  she  did  not  see  him,  and  when  he  came  and 
bent  over  her,  and  said, 

"Anna,  my  child,  what  is  the  matter?"  she  started 
up,  and,  with  that  almost  unequalled  command  which  she 
had  acquired  over  herself,  even  in  her  childish  days,  re- 
plied : 

"  I  have  been  foolish — but  I  hope  you  will  not  blame  me — 
only  this  morning  I  was  boasting  of  my  strength  ;  but  oh  ! 
how  weak  I  am." 

"  Child — Anna — tell  me,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Do  not  look  so  frightened,  doctor  ;  it  is  nothing  very 
bad.  I  have  only  been  hasty  ;  but  I  knew  you  would  not 
object." 

"  What  is  it  ?    Tell  me  quick!" 

"  I  have  promised  to  be  Edward's  wife." 

"  Promised  ! — not  promised  ?"  said  the  doctor  in  an 
agitated  voice. 

"  Yes,  promised.  But  why  ?  Would  you  have  ob- 
jected ?" 

"  Oh,  my  dear  girl,  what  have  you  done  ?  Why  did 
you  ? — you  will  regret  it.  Oh,  Anna,  Anna,  why  did  you  ?" 
said  the  doctor,  as  he  paced  the  room. 

Anna  was  now  thoroughly  aroused  ;  this  antipathy  of 
Doctor  Foster  to  Edward  was  wholly  unexpected.  She 
could  not  understand  it  ;  and,  following  him,  she  laid  her 
hand  upon  his  arm,  and  detaining  him,  said  : 


SNAKING     THE     BIRD.  351 

"  Doctor,  I  did  very  wrong  to  make  such  a  promise  with- 
out your  consent  and  approbation.  I  hope,  for  that  fault, 
to  obtain  your  forgiveness." 

"It  is  not  that,  Anna.  What  do  I  care  whether  you 
ask  me  or  not,  so  that  you  do  not  make  a  bad  venture  of 
your  happiness  ?" 

"  Do  I  understand  you  ?     Do  you  object  to  Edward  ?" 

"  I  do.    You  will  regret  this  haste,  Anna." 

"  No,  that  is  not  possible,  if  you  will  now  approve.  Have 
I  not  known  Edward  Randall  almost  all  my  life  ?  Is  there 
anything  of  him  that  I  have  not  already  learned  ?  Could  I 
know  him  better  ?" 

"  If  you  are  happy  in  your  choice,  Anna,  why  do  you 
weep  ?  Do  you  not  already  regret  your  haste  ?" 

"  No,  no  ;  but  it  has  been  so  sudden,  so  unexpected  ;  I 
don't  know  why  I  wept  ;  but  it  was  not  regret — no.  He 
says  he  has  loved  me  always,  and  I  cannot  doubt  him,"  said 
she,  musingly. 

"  Do  you  love  him  ?  Have  you  questioned  your  own 
heart  ?  You  have  loved  him  as  a  brother  ;  is  there  any 
tenderer  feeling  in  your  heart  towards  him  ?" 

"  I  certainly  never  thought  of  him  as  a  lover  before  this 
evening;  but  I  admire  him  more  than  any  one  else  I  know." 

"  Admire  him  !  is  that  all  ?  Do  you  esteem  and  respect 
him  ?  Are  you  sure  that  he  possesses  that  truth  and  integ- 
rity which,  but  this  morning,  you  said  would  be  necessary 
in  one  you  married  ?" 

"  I  think  he  does.  Do  you  know  anything  to  the 
contrary  ?" 


352      OLD     II  A  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  No,  not  positively  ;  but  I  say  again,  I  feel  confident 
that  he  is  not  the  one  to  make  you  happy.  But  we  will  not 
speak  of  it  any  more  to-night.  You  are  tired,  go  to  bed. 
To-morrow  we  will  talk  it  over.  Good-night,  God  bless 
you,"  said  the  doctor,  tenderly,  as  he  kissed  her  fair  fore- 
head. 

Anna  retired,  with  a  heavy  heart,  to  her  chamber.  The 
doctor's  words  and  manner  had  cast  a  gloom  over  her 
spirits,  which  she  could  not  resist.  She  questioned  herself 
over  and  over  again  of  the  cause  of  his  opposition.  He 
had  given  no  reason,  and,  perhaps,  it  was  a  mere  caprice, 
or  prejudice.  But  that  was  inconsistent  with  the  doctor's 
character  and  usual  conduct. 

She  lived  over  again  the  scenes  of  the  past  evening, 
wondering  at  herself,  that  she  should  so  quickly  have 
assented  to  Edward's  wish.  But  then  she  quieted  her  own 
fears  of  its  prudence,  by  recalling  their  long  acquaintance, 
his  many  kindnesses,  and  evident  affection  for  her  ;  and  she 
was  sure  she  loved  him  better  than  any  one  else.  With 
thoughts  like  these,  she  fell  asleep.  How  little  she  knew 
her  own  heart.  She  loved  Edward  Kandall  as  she  would 
have  loved  a  kind  brother.  A  deep,  all-absorbing  passion 
had  never  been  awakened  in  her  heart  ;  if  it  had,  she  could 
not  have  thus  coolly  discussed  the  subject  with  her  guar- 
dian, or  debated  upon  it  in  her  own  chamber.  That 
admits  of  no  questioning,  seeks  not  the  gaze  of  others,  but 
hides  the  image  of  the  loved  deep  in  the  recesses  of  the 
heart. 


CLOUDS     AND     SHADOWS.  353 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

CLOUDS      AND       SHADOWS. 

RANDALL  felt  very  much  elated  with  his  unhoped  for  suc- 
cess. He  had  not  expected  .so  easy  a  conquest — in  fact, 
had  not  intended  trying  his  fortune  that  evening,  until  he 
discovered  the  doctor's  want  of  confidence  in  him.  He  had 
often  thought  that  Doctor  Foster,  latterly,  was  not  quite  so 
cordial  as  before,  and  that  his  gaze  was  more  earnest  and 
searching  when  they  met.  But  he  did  not,  for  a  moment, 
suppose  that  the  doctor  could  have  ever  discovered  any* 
thing  that  would  induce  him  to  interfere  with  his  engage- 
ment. He  had  been  always  careful,  never  to  present  him- 
self before  Anna  or  the  doctor,  when  he  had  been  indulging 
in  dissipation.  Now,  he  felt  that  the  prize  he  had  so  long 
envied  was  within  his  grasp.  Anna's  fortune  would  provide 
for  him  all  those  luxuries  and  pleasures  in  which  he  delighted 
to  revel.  Mental  or  physical  exertion  would  be  unnecessary, 
and  he  would  glide  quietly  along  upon  the  current  of  life, 
without  interruption  or  anxiety.  With  thoughts  like  these 
filling  his  mind,  he  rode  slowly  down  into  the  busy  heart  of 
the  city.  After  delivering  up  his  horse,  he  threaded  his  way 


d  54     OLD     HATTN,     1HE     PAWNBROKER. 

through  the  crowded  thoroughfare  to  one  of  the  saloons 
which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  frequenting  ;  there  he  found 
two  of  his  acquaintances  who  seemed  to  have  been  awaiting 
his  arrival.  At  his  suggestion,  they  all  retired  to  an  inner 
room,  Edward  having  ordered  refreshments,  together  with 
brandy  and  cigars  for  the  company,  which  the  waiter  imme- 
diately brought  them.  As  he  left  the  room,  Randall  said,  at 
the  same  time  half  filling  his  glass  and  watering  ad  libitum, 

"  Come,  boys,  drink  to  my  success.  I  am  the  happiest 
man  in  the  world  to-night." 

"  What's  up.  Somebody  retired  from  life  and  left  you 
their  heir  ?"  said  one. 

"Better  than  that,  Bill,  I've  made  a  conquest  of  the 
sweetest  girl  in  this  city,  and  this  very  evening,  too.  Boys, 
I've  a  notion  to  marry  her." 

"  Ha  !  ha  1  ha  !  Hear  him,  Benson — you  marry  ?  What 
the  deuce  are  you  going  to  do  with  a  wife  ?" 

"Well,  if  you  would  let  me  finish  what  I  was  going  to 
say,  you  would  discover  what  I  am  going  to  do  with  a  wife. 
She's  only  worth  about  a  hundred  thousand — eh  !  do  you 
see  now  ?" 

"  Who  is  it,  Ned  1     Tell  us,  you  needn't  be  jealous." 

"  No  I'm  not  afraid  of  you,  but  I  think  I'll  catch  the  bird 
and  cage  her  first,  and  then,  perhaps  you  may  see  her  and 
hear  her  voice,  too." 

"  Now  don't  mystify — I  know  as  well  as  you  do,  see  if  I 
don't — it's  Anna  Hervey,  old  Doctor  Foster's  ward,  ain't  it  ? 
now  own  up,"  said  the  one  called  Benson. 


CLOUDS     AND     SHADOWS.  355 

"  The  same,  there's  no  use  denying  it ;  come  drink,"  said 
Randall,  raising  the  glass  to  his  mouth. 

"Long  life  and  happiness,"  said  both  of  the  young  men, 
us  they  followed  his  example. 

"  Benson,  what  made  you  guess  so  quickly  who  it  was  ?" 

"I  have  heard  you  speak  of  her  often,  and  I  saw  you 
riding  with  her  this  afternoon,  so  I  supposed  of  course  she 
was  the  one — nice  girl,  Eandall  ;  too  good  for  you." 

"  Why,  Benson,  what  do  you  mean,  I  shall  be  the  kindest 
of  husbands." 

"  So  long  as  you  have  plenty  of  money,  but  when  that 
fails " 

"  That  day  will  not  come — a  hundred  thousand  will  last 
my  lifetime." 

"  I  doubt  it,  but  of  course  the  money  is  no  attraction  ?" 

"  No  indeed.  She's  a  lovely  girl — I  begin  to  really 
believe  that  I  love  her,  that  is  as  well  as  I  could  any 
woman.  I  have  known  her  ever  since  she  was  a  little 
child." 

"  Do  you  love  her  well  enough  to  take  her  without  the 
money  ?" 

"  Perhaps  I  might,  and  then  again  perhaps  I  might  not ; 
but  just  at  this  time  I'm  disposed  to  think  not,  for  it  is  more 
than  I  can  do  to  provide  for  myself,  let  alone  a  wife." 

"  But,  Randall,  do  you  really  mean  to  marry  the  girl  ?  If 
yes,  then  I  say  you  are  a  fool  to  marry  any  one — you'll 
never  catch  me  tied  to  a  woman — see  if  you  do,"  said  the 
other. 


356      OLD     HA.UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  we  shall  until  men  become  very 
scarce  and  then,  perhaps,  you  might  stand  some  sort  of  a 
chance.  I  suppose  you  would  not  touch  the  thousands,  oh, 
110,  not  you,  you  don't  like  money,"  said  Randall,  sneer- 


"  I  like  money,  but  not  well  enough  to  sell  my  freedom. 
I  don't  like  being  nosed  about  by  a  woman,"  said  he,  light- 
ing a  cigar. 

"  Randall,  I  don't  want  to  offend  you,  but  I  should  not 
like  to  have  it  said  that  I  had  married  a  girl  for  her  money. 
Supposing  you  were  the  rich  one,  would  you  feel  gratified 
to  know  you  were  sought,  or  taken  for  that  alone  ?"  said 
the  other,  who  had  as  yet  taken  but  little  part  in  the  con- 
versation. 

"  Fol-de-rol,  Benson,  you  are  behind  the  age  ;  but  you 
are  mistaken.  I  have  said  it  was  not  for  that  alone.  I 
like  her  for  herself,  and  do  not  intend  she  shall  ever  know 
or  suspect  that  the  money  is  any  attraction." 

"  Let  alone  a  woman  for  that.  I  tell  you  what,  with  all 
your  knowledge  of  the  sex,  you  will  find  yourself  deceived 
in  this  respect.  She  will  soon  discover  that  you  wanted  the 
pewter,  and  then  look  out  for  breakers." 

"  It  will  be  for  her  interest  to  keep  quiet  then,  if  she 
should  make  the  discovery  ;  for  you  know  the  cash  would 
be  in  my  pocket  after  we  are  married,  and  she  will  be,  in 
fact,  dependent  on  me." 

"  Yes,  that  is  undoubtedly  so  ;  but  it  is  none  the  less 
wrong  for  being  so  ;  and  if  I  were  a  law-maker,  instead  of 


CLOUDS     AND     SHADOWS."  357 

being  as  I  am,  a  law-breaker,  I'd  have  the  laws  changed,  so 
that  every  woman  should  hold  her  own  property,  as  well 
after  marriage  as  before." 

"You  would  change  your  mind,  if  you  were  in  my 
place." 

"  Not  at  all,  sir,  and  if  I  was  in  your  place,  every  cent 
of  her  property  should  be  settled  upon  herself  before  the 
knot  would  be  tied.  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  old  Foster 
should  insist  upon  your  doing  it." 

"  Old  Foster  be  hanged.  I'll  look  out  for  that.  I  am 
going  to  hurry  np  matters.  I  don't  intend  to  give  them 
much  time  for  deliberation." 

"  Well,  Randall,  you  will  do  what  I  would  not,  and  I 
never  considered  myself  over  scrupulous  where  money  is 
concerned,  and  I  say,  she's  too  deuced  fine  a  girl  to  be 
imposed  upon,"  said  Benson,  rising  and  throwing  away  his 
cigar. 

"  Won't  you  repeat  your  remark  ?  I  think  I  must  have 
misunderstood  you,"  Randall  replied,  in  a  supercilious 
tone  and  manner. 

"  Come,  boys,  keep  quiet ;  what's  the  use  ?  Hang  it, 
can't  you  talk  about  a  woman  without  getting  into  a  pas- 
sion?" said  the  one  who  had  at  first  monopoh'zed  the 
conversation,  and  who  answered  to  the  familiar  name  of 
Tom. 

"  Going  down  town,  Tom  ?     Come,  let's  be  moving." 

"  What's  the  use  of  being  in  a  hurry,  Benson  ?  sit  down 
and  take  another  horn." 


358      OLD*     II  A  UN,      THE      PAWNBROKER 

"  No,  I'm  going  to  the  office.  I  was  up  late  last  night 
and  am  sleepy." 

"  I've  got  a  word  to  say  before  we  part,"  said  Randall, 
whose  face  had  become  somewhat  flushed  by  the  liquor  he 
had  drank,  "  I  want  an  explanation.  Did  you  say  some- 
thing about  my  imposing  upon  somebody  ?" 

"  No,  I  did  not,  but  I  will  say  that  you  are  going  to  do  a 
devilish  unhandsome  thing.  Do  you  understand  that  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  do  you  understand  that  ?"  said  Randall,  as  he 
seized  an  empty  glass  and  threw  it  with  some  force  across 
the  table  into  the  last  speaker's  face.  The  glass  was  a 
heavy  one  and  hit  Benson  over  the  left  eye,  making  a  severe 
contusion. 

The  favor  was  instantly  returned  by  Benson,  who,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet,  rushed  towards  Randall,  and  before  the  latter 
could  guard  himself,  gave  him  a  blow  with  his  fist  that  made 
him  stagger.  Benson  drew  back  like  an  experienced  boxer, 
to  repeat  with  his  left,  when,  as  he  was  about  to  send  the 
blow  home,  his  arm  was  seized  by  Tom,  who  had  rushed 
towards  them,  exclaiming,: 

"  Stop,  now,  don't  make  fools  of  yourselves.  Benson  get 
along — never  mind  that  diff — .  What  the  devil  do  you 
care  about  the  girl  or  her  money  either  ?  I  tell  you,  I'll  call 
the  poh'ce  if  you  don't  quit,"  said  the  good-natured  Tom,  as 
he  endeavored  to  separate  the  angry  men. 

The  two  stood  glaring  at  each  other,  until  Tom  broke  the 
silence  by  saying  : 

"Now  what  is  there  to  get  mad  about.     Shake  bauds  and 


CLOUDS     AND     SHADOWS.  359 

make  up,  boys — what's  the  use  of  quarrelling  ?  Come,  Ben- 
son, you  were  the  one  to  give  offence — give  Randall  your 
hand,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves,  you've  made 
me  spill  my  last  glass,  and  it  was  just  the  quantity  that  I 
needed." 

"  Tom,  don't  meddle — I  won't.  Mr.  Randall  will  repent 
this  evening's  work — mark  my  words,"  said  Benson,  as  he 
jammed  his  hat  down  on  his  head,  and  left  the  room  He 
went  directly  to  his  lodgings,  which  were  in  the  office  iu 
which  he  was  a  student ;  but  as  he  was  about  to  ascend  the 
stairs  leading  to  them,  he  encountered  Mich  Lynch,  who 
was  himself  returning  home  after  spending  the  evening  with 
a  friend. 

Their  offices  being  upon  the  same  floor  they  went  to- 
gether, and  Mich  invited  Benson  to  go  in  and  sit  awhile  ; 
the  invitation  was  at  first  declined,  but  upon  being  repeated 
he  followed  Mich  in,  saying  : 

"  I  expect  I  shall  be  a  beauty  by  to-morrow  morning.  I 
got  a  devil  of  a  blow  over  my  eye  to-night — see  there." 

"  Why,  Benson,  how  did  that  come  ?  have  you  been 
fighting  ?  I  did  not  know  that  you  ever  indulged  in  that 
amusement." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  it — Lynch,  is  it  very 
bad  ?" 

Mich  held  the  lamp  towards  him,  which  he  had  in  his 
hand,  saying  : 

"  Well,  you  are  a  beauty.     How  did  you  get  it,  say  ?" 

"  Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short — I  told  our  friend 


360      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKEK. 

Randall,  that  lie  was  a  devilish  mean  fellow,  and  he  gave 
me  that  as  an  acknowledgment  of  the  fact." 

"  Eandall !  Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"  Know  him  ?  Look  at  that  eye — I  am  pretty  sure  I  do 
know  him  and  shall  remember  him,  too." 

"Do  not  get  excited,  Benson.  Tell  me  how  it  hap- 
pened." 

"  Well,  myself  and  another  went  into  a  saloon  up  town 
to  get  a  drink,  and  while  we  were  there,  Randall  came  in, 
and  asked  us  to  take  something,  and  we  did  so — then  he 
began  to  tell  us  about  his  good  luck,  and  what  he  was  going 
to  do  when  he  gets  married  etc.,  etc.  I  expressed  my 
opinion  pretty  freely,  and  he  got  excited  and  pitched  his 
tumbler  into  my  face,  the  edge  of  it  hit  me  over  the  eye 
and  left  that  mark." 

"  Married  !  Did  you  say  he  was  going  to  be  married  ?" 
said  Mich,  in  a  husky  voice. 

"  Yes— do  you  know  Randall  ?" 

"  I  have  met  him  often." 

"  Perhaps  you  know  this  girl  he  is  going  to  marry  ?" 

"  Who  ?" 

"  Why  that  pretty  Miss  Hervey,  the  adopted  daughter  of 
Doctor  Foster." 

Mich  started  from  his  chair  and  went  to  the  window  ;  for 
an  instant  he  pressed  his  hand  upon  his  heart. 

"  What  is  it,  Lynch  ?  What  did  you  hear  ?" 

"Nothing,  go  on.  Tell  me  all  he  said?"  said  Mich, 
returning  to  his  seat  with  forced  composure. 


CLOUDS     AND     SUNSHINE.  361 

"  Lynch,  what  is  the  matter  ?    you  are  as  white  as  a 

i 

ghost." 

"  Severe  pain  in  my  side — go  on  with  your  story." 

"  You  had  better  go  to  bed." 

"  No,  no,  go  on.  It's  past,  now.  Tell  me  all  about 
that  ?" 

"  If  my  friend  had  not  interfered,  we'd  have  had  a  regular 
scrimmage.  I  wish  I'd  made  my  mark  on  his  face,  as  he 
has  oil  mine,  it  might  hare  hurt  his  credit  with  his  lady 
love.  She  don't  know  what  a  contemptible  puppy  he  is,  or 
she  would  not  have  him,  I  know." 

"  Who  did  you  say  it  was  ?" 

"  Miss  Hervey — Anna  Hervey,  I  believe  her  name  is.  Do 
you  know  her  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  know  who  you  mean.  Did  Randall  say  he  was 
going  to  marry  her  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  her  money  is  all  that  he  wants.  It  made  me 
mad  to  hear  him  brag  so  about  it  ;  he  says  she  is  worth  a 
hundred  thousand.  Is  it  so  ?" 

"  She  is  wealthy  ;  but  he  was  only  boasting.  He  did  not 
say  they  were  engaged  ?" 

"  Yes,  they  were  out  on  horseback  together  this  after- 
noon, I  saw  them,  and  he  proposed  and  she  accepted  ;  so 
he  said." 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  Why,  Lynch,  what  is  the  matter  ?  let  me  get  you  some- 
thing. Are  you  faint  ?" 

"  No,  I'll  turn  in  for  the  night — I  don't  feel  very  well." 
16 


362       OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Had  I  not  better  get  you  something,  or  perhaps  stay 
with  you  ?" 

"  No,  I  thank  you.  I  shall  feel  better  soon." 
"  Well,  good  night — you  must  not  study  so  hard,  Lynch." 
"  I  don't  intend  to  for  awhile — good  night " 
When  the  door  closed  upon  his  friend,  and  Mich  was 
alone,  he  gave  way  to  the  agitation  that  had  almost  un- 
manned him  ;  he  sank  upon  a  seat,  and  resting  his  head 
upon  a  table,  wept.  Yes,  wept ;  tears  that  men  seldom  shed, 
were  wrung  from  his  almost  bursting  heart.  Then  the 
intense  and  devoted  love,  which,  growing  with  his  growth, 
and  strengthening  with  his  strength,  had  lain  hidden  in  the 
secret  chambers  of  his  soul,  was  suddenly  awakened  to  life, 
and  he  became  conscious  that  the  hope  of  one  day  calling 
her  his,  had  stimulated  him  through  the  struggles  of  the 
past.  Now  every  thought  was  merged  in  the  overwhelm- 
ing one  that  she  loved  another — that  she  was  lost  to  him  ; 
and  then  his  thoughts  reverted  to  the  successful  rival,  who 
had  won  the  prize,  or  rather  to  him  who  had  clandestinely 
stolen  from  him  his  treasure,  and  for  a  moment  a  feeling  of 
resentment  and  anger  banished  other  feelings.  Starting  up, 
he  paced  the  office  with  clenched  hands,  and  compressed 
lips  ;  for  a  few  moments  the  violence  of  his  emotions  choked 
his  utterance — but  as  it  gradually  subsided  he  exclaimed : 

"  Vile,  mercenery  wretch.  He  does  not,  he  cannot  love 
her  as  I  do  1  I'll  thwart  him — love  him  ?  can  it  be  she  loves 
him  ?  Oh,  God  !  I  caunot,  I  will  not  give  her  up— but  if 
she  does  ?  He  cannot  make  her  happy.  Sho  will  not,  can- 


C    LOUDS     AND     SUNSHINE.  363 

not  loye  him  if  she  knows  his  motives.  She  will  despise 
me  if  I  tell  her.  No,  that  will  not  do.  But  she  must  know 
his  object — can  I,  dare  I  approach  her  for  this  purpose.  I 
who  have  loved  her  so  long,  and  so  well — must  I  lose  her — 
must  I  give  her  up  ?"  and  he  threw  himself  upon  a  sofa,  giving 
way  to  the  agony  of  despair — then  came  a  doubt  of  the  truth 
of  what  he  had  heard  and  hope  inspired  him  again.  Then 
Anna's  words  and  manner  of  the  evening  previous  were  recall- 
ed to  mind,  to  deprive  him  of  even  that  reliance.  Thus 
through  that  whole  night,  did  Mich  yield  alternately  to  hope, 
doubt,  anger,  and  despair.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that 
when  Mr.  Pierce  entered  the  office  in  the  morning,  he  was 
startled  by  Mich's  haggard  appearance,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Why,  Mich,  what  is  the  matter  ?  are  you  sick  ?" 

"  No,  sir — yes — I  mean — I  don't  feel  very  well." 

"  No,  Yes.  Which  is  it  Mich  ?  You  certainly  look  as 
though  you  had  not  slept  any." 

"  I  have  not  ;  but  I  feel  better  now." 

"  Well,  you  had  better  go  up  to  the  house  ;  you  have  not 
been  to  breakfast,  have  you  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  wish  any." 

"  Mich,  are  you  in  any  trouble  ?-  If  you  are  let  me  know 
it.  What  is  it  ?" 

"Nothing,  nothing,  sir,  only  I  am  not  in  very  good 
spirits  just  now,  a  little  annoyance,  nothing  more,"  said 
Mich,  endeavoring  to  conceal  his  emotion  from  the  piercing 
gaze  of  his  benefactor.  Mr.  Pierce  approached  him,  and 
laying  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  said  : 


364       OLD      H  A  U  N  ,      THE      P  A  W  N  B  K  O  K  E  K 

"  Mich,  you  are  not  dealing  frankly  with  me  ;  there  is 
something  more.  I  hope  you  have  not  been  led  into  any- 
thing foolish.  Tell  me  what  it  is  ?  Yon  know,  Mich,  you 
can  rely  upon  me." 

"  Nothing  that  you  need  fear.  I  have  done  nothing  that 
I  need  be  ashamed  of.  I  am  only  blue  this  morning.  I'll 
go  out  and  take  a  walk,  and  perhaps  I  shall  feel  better." 

"  Very  well  ;  you  had  better  go  and  get  some  breakfast," 
said  Mr.  Pierce,  scrutinizing  him  very  closely  as  he  rose  and 
left  the  office.  He  saw  plainly  that  something  unusual  had 
occurred  ;  for  he  had  never  before  seen  Mich  in  such  a  state 
of  mind,  but  he  knew  him  to  be  so  strictly  correct  in  all 
his  habits,  that  the  suspicion,  which  for  one  moment  crossed 
his  mind,  that  he  might  have  been  tempted  to  commit  some 
indiscretion,  was  quickly  banished  by  Mich's  words,  and  he 
concluded  that  Mich  was  temporarily  indisposed,  and  so  let 
the  subject  rest. 

Mich  wandered  on,  gloomy  and  despondingly,  towards  his 
home.  All  life  and  energy  had  suddenly  left  him.  There 
was  now  no  incentive  to  study,  to  labor,  to  strive  with  the 
world. 

Arriving  at  home,  he  was  met  by  his  mother  with  an 
anxious  countenance,  for  his  want  of  punctuality  had 
aroused  her  fears  for  his  safety.  He  complained  of  head- 
ache, and  listened  patiently  to  his  fond  parent's  prescriptions 
for  his  relief,  refusing  everything  but  a  cup  of  coffee.  Tak- 
ing that,  he  left  and  strolled  to  the  upper  part  of  the  city, 
without  any  definite  object  in  view,  except  to  drive  away 


CLOUDS     AND     SUNSHINE.  365 

disagreeable  thoughts ;  but  he  was  instinctively  led  toward 
Doctor  Foster's  residence,  and  was  startled  when  he  found 
himself  in  its  immediate  vicinity,  and  the  color  deepened  in 
his  cheek  when  he  saw  the  worthy  doctor  and  Anna  approach- 
ing him  on  the  side-walk.  His  first  impulse  was  to  turn 
away,  lest  he  should  betray  his  feelings  ;  but  then,  the 
consciousness  that  his  conduct  would  appear  strange  and  be 
misunderstood,  made  him  as  suddenly  decide  to  endeavor  to 
meet  them  as  usual. 

"  Good  morning,  Mich  !  Going  to  give  us  a  call,  are 
you  not  ?"  said  the  doctor. 

"  No,  I  am  obliged  to  you,  I  cannot  stop." 

"  Why,  what  calls  you  up  town  so  early.  Does  some  poor 
fellow  want  his  will  drawn  up  ?" 

"No,  but  for  a  rarity,  I  have  been  indulging  myself  in  a 
morning  walk." 

"  Well,  then,  you  certainly  need  not  be  in  haste.  Come, 
turn  back,  and  go  in  with  us." 

"  Thank  you,  doctor,  I  have  idled  away  as  much  time  as 
I  ought  to  already." 

"  I  wish  you  had  come  along  earlier,  we  might  have 
enjoyed  our  walk  together,  and,  perhaps,  I  should  have 
had  some  one  to  talk  to  me.  I  have  had  a  dumb  companion 
this  morning." 

"  I  hope  you  are  well  this  morning,  Miss  Hervey  ?" 

"  Miss  Hervey  is  very  well,  indeed,  Mr.  Lynch." 

"  Humph  !  how  polite  —  Miss  Hervey  —  Mr.  Lynch. 
What  has  Become  of  Anna  and  Mich  ?  Come,  unbend  a 


366      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

little.  Any  one  would  suppose  you  were  strangers.  Anna, 
do  talk.  If  I  did  not  know  your  conscience  was  troubling 
you,  I  should  certainly  think  you  were  sick." 

"  Pshaw,  doctor,  how  you  talk,"  said  Anna,  with  a  forced 
laugh.  "  Conie,  Mich,  go  in  and  sit  for  a  few  moments.  I 
want  you  should  tell  me  how  you  enjoyed  the  party  night 
before  last  ?" 

"  Well,  I  will,  for  a  few  moments  ;  but  I  must  not  stay 
long." 

As  they  entered  the  house,  Anna  unloosed  her  bonnet 
and  shawl,  throwing  them  aside,  carelessly,  as  she  seated 
herself  in  the  parlor. 

Mich  thought  she  had  never  before  appeared  so  beautiful. 
The  exercise  of  walking  had  brought  the  rose  to  her  pale 
cheek,  and  in  her  eyes  was  a  sad,  thoughtful  expression 
that  he  had  not  seen  there  for  years.  It  reminded  him  of 
the  time  when  he  had  stood  by  her  side  and  looked  upon 
her  dead  father,  and  again  when  her  mother  had  been  hid- 
den from  her  sight.  It  surprised  him  ;  he  expected  to  have 
seen  her  radiant  with  smiles  of  new-found  happiness.  As 
he  looked,  he  doubted  the  story  he  had  heard.  Forgetful 
of  all  but  his  own  thoughts,  he  sat  gazing  into  Anna's  face, 
until  she,  turning  her  eyes  upon  him,  met  his  earnest  look, 
and  then  her  deepening  color  recalled  him  to  himself. 
Embarrassed,  he  took  a  book  from  off  a  table  near,  and 
turned  its  leaves,  although  he  did  not  read  its  pages. 

"  You  have  not  told  me,  Mich,  how  you  liked  my  birth- 
day party." 


CLOUDS     AND     SUNSHINE.  367 

"  Everything  was  very  handsome." 

"  Everybody  you  mean  ;  but  did  you  enjoy  yourself  ? 
Why  don't  you  praise  me  and  my  talent  to  entertain  ?" 

"  Have  you  become  so  accustomed  to  flattery  that  other 
language  has  no  charms  for  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  that  is  it,  Mich,"  said  the  doctor,  just  enter- 
ing ;  "  flattery  and  lies  are  the  bait  the  young  jack-a-napes 
use  now-a-days  to  catch  young  girls'  hearts.  I  hope  you 
will  never  stoop  to  the  use  of  such  means." 

"  Doctor,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Anna. 

"  I  mean  just  what  I  say.  Mich,  never  flatter  a 
woman." 

"  I  have  nad  but  little  intercourse  with  ladies,  and  do 
not  know  so  well,  perhaps,  as  you,  the  influence  of  well- 
timed  flattery  ;  but,  I  think,  the  heart  I  should  value,  could 
not  thus  be  won." 

"  Who  said  anything  about  winning  hearts  ?  Every 
foolish  thing  I  say  of  late,  the  doctor  takes  up  in  earnest. 
Mich,  the  doctor  scolds  me  sometimes  more  than  he  did 
when  I  was  a  little  girl." 

"  Oh,  Anna  !" 

"  There,  do  not  magnify  that  now  ;  do  not  think  for  one 
moment  that  I  would  be  scolded  less.  I  only  wanted  Mich 
to  praise  my  party  a  little  ;  I  think  that  is  excusable,  as  it 
is  the  first  I  ever  gave.  Mich,  it  is  not  right  for  you  to 
jump  at  the  conclusion,  that  because  I  solicited  a  little 
praise,  I  would  be  satisfied  with  nothing  else.  You  know 
that  I  do  not  like  flattery.  Just  praise  is  not  flattery." 


368      OLD     H  A  r  N  ,     THE     PAWNBBOKEB. 

"  Who  shall  be  the  judge  ?  A  woman's  vanity  induces 
her  to  believe  that  the  most  fulsome  flattery  is  truth  itself. 
Praise  a  woman's  face  and  figure,  Mich,  and  you  pave  a 
broad  way  to  her  heart,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  You  are  ungenerous,  doctor.  These  are  not  your  real 
sentiments  ;  you  feel  out  of  humor  with  me  to-day,  I  am 
afraid,  and  in  consequence  the  whole  of  my  sex  suffer.  Is 
it  not  so  ?" 

"  Humph  !  I  must  confess  I  do  feel  ill-natured." 

"  Mich,  you  must  not  believe  that  what  the  doctor  says 
is  true  of  all.  I  hope  there  are  many  who,  like  myself,  des- 
pise the  flatterer." 

"  Tell  me,  truly,  do  you  despise  the  flatterer  ?"  Mich 
asked. 

"  I  do  from  my  heart ;  and  I  know  that  it  could  not 
have  any  influence  with  me,  unless  to  make  me  dislike  the 
flatterer." 

"  Anna  Hervey,  how  can  you  say  that  ?  Two  days  ago 
I  would  have  believed  you  sincere,  but  you  are  not  now. 
No,  I  wish  I  could  believe  you  were,"  said  the  doctor,  with 
emotion,  as  he  rose  to  leave  the  room. 

For  one  moment  every  particle  of  color  fled  from  Anna's 
cheeks  and  lips  ;  but  the  deathly  paleness  was  quickly  suc- 
ceeded by  the  crimson  flush  of  anger.  Rising  from  her 
seat,  she  drew  her  tall  figure  up  with  all  the  dignity  of  a 
queen,  and  approached  Doctor  Foster,  while  her  eyea 
glowed  with  an  unnatural  brilliancy,  and  was  about  to 
speak,  when  Mich  started  from  his  seat,  saying,  hast.'ly  : 


CLOUDS      AND     SHADOWS.  369 

"  Anna,  think  before  you  speak.  Excuse  me,  I  will 
leave." 

"  No,  stay — for  one  moment,  stay.  Your  good  opinion 
1  value,  and  I  should  surely  lose  it,  if  you  believed  what  the 
doctor  has  said." 

"  No,  Anna,  I  do  not  wish  to  intrude  upon  your  secrets. 
Do  not  think,  for  one  moment,  that  I  would  harbor  an 
unkind  thought  of  you ;  but  be  careful  that  you  are  not 
deceived.  Good  morning,"  said  Mich,  as  he  hastily  left  the 
house.  He  dared  not  remain  longer,  lest  he  should  betray 
the  struggle  in  his  own  mind. 

He  felt  convinced  now  that  what  Benson  had  told  him 
was  true  ;  and  he  also  knew,  from  the  doctor's  manner  and 
words,  that  he  was  not  at  all  pleased,  and  that  he  thought 
that  Anna  had  been  won  by  flattery.  He  pondered  over  all 
that  he  had  heard,  while  on  his  way  back  to  the  office,  and 
debated  in  his  mind  what  his  duly  might  be.  He  knew  now 
that  he  must  resign  all  thought  of  Anna  ;  but  he  would  not 
permit  her  to  be  deceived,  and  her  whole  life's  happiness 
risked,  if  by  his  endeavors  this  great  danger  could  be 
averted.  He  had  been  her  friend  and  confidant  since  her 
childhood,  and  should  he  resign  his  privilege  to  watch  over 
and  protect  her  now  that  she  most  needed  it  ?  No.  He 
would  sacrifice  his  own  feelings — his  own  hopes — but  she 
should  not  be  made  unhappy,  as  he  knew  she  would  be,  if, 
in  her  blindness,  she  should  unite  her  destiny  with  so  artful 
a  deceiver  as  Randall  had  proved  himself  to  be. 

He  resolved  to  watch  closely,  and  discover  if  what  Ben- 
16* 


370      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

son  had  said  was  really  true.  If  Randall  was  worthy  of 
her,  he  would  not  lay  a  straw  in  the  way  of  her  happiness. 
He  would  yield  her  up  without  hesitation.  It  was  a  great 
struggle  to  determine  upon  this.  But  Mich's  unselfish, 
generous,  noble  soul,  was  equal  to  the  exertion. 


PRESSING     THE     SIEGE.  371 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PRESSING     THE     SIEGE. 

AFTER  Mich  had  left  the  house,  Anna  went  in  search  of 
her  guardian.  She  found  him  in  deep  thought,  pacing  the 
library.  When  she  entered  he  came  directly  to  her,  and 
said  : 

"  My  dear  girl,  can  you  excuse  your  old  friend's  abrupt- 
ness ?" 

The  doctor's  manner  dispelled  every  vestige  of  anger 
from  Anna's  mind.  She  could  not  feel  angry  with  him  long, 
for  she  well  knew  that  it  was  the  interest  he  felt  in  her 
welfare,  that  made  him  often  abrupt,  even  to  rudeness — and, 
notwithstanding  it  was  very  jarring  to  her  sensibilities,  she 
was  willing  to  overlook  the  consequences  to  herself,  in  view 
of  the  motive.  She  held  out  her  hand,  saying  : 

"  I  can  excuse  everything  but  your  doubt  of  my  sincerity. 
Do  you,  can  you  believe  that  I  would  willingly  blind  either 
you  or  myself  ?  let  us  understand  each  other.  I  have  avoid- 
ed speaking  upon  a  subject  that  has  occupied  all  of  our 
thoughts  this  morning,  because  I  have  felt  that  it  was  dis- 


372      OLD      II  A  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

agreeable  to  you,  but  this  must  not  be — I  cannot  rest  under 
your  displeasure.  Tell  me  plainly  your  objections  to  Edward 
Randall.  Why  do  you  think  so  meanly  of  me  as  to  suppose 
that  he  has  won  my  consent  to  marry  him  by  flattery  alone  ? 
Come,  do  sit  down  here  on  the  divan  with  me,  and  let  us 
talk  soberly  and  without  excitement,  of  what  so  much  con- 
cerns my  happiness." 

"  Anna,  you  do  not  love  him  as  you  ought ;  it  is  not  natural 
— it  is  not  possible  for  you  to  reason  thus  calmly  upon  this 
subject.  It  is  contrary  to  all  I  ever  knew  or  heard  of 
woman's  nature." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  different  from  every  other  woman.  But 
why  is  it  contrary  to  woman's  nature  ?  Cannot  woman,  as 
well  as  man,  lay  aside  romance  and  let  reason  have  sway  ?" 

"  Not  where  the  affections  are  concerned  ;  neither  manner 
woman  can  do  it  entirely." 

"From  experience  I  cannot  judge,  except  in  this  one 
instance — but  I  surely  can  and  will  lay  aside  all  romance, 
and  judge  of  the  right  or  wrong,  of  the  step  I  propose  tak- 
ing. I  have  been  hasty,  but  that  error  is  not  irretrievable, 
and  although  I  should  feel  humbled  to  be  obliged  to  acknow- 
ledge that  I  do  not  know  my  own  heart,  or  that  my  reason 
and  judgment  cannot  confirm  its  choice — still  I  can  do  it, 
and  will,  if  you  will  convince  me  that  you  have  just  grounds 
for  your  opposition." 

"  Well,  first,  Anna,  you  said  that  you  would  despise 
flatterers.  I  offended  you  by  doubting  your  sincerity." 

"  Not  so  much  for  the  expression  as  the  doubt — and  that 


PRESSING     THE     SIEGE.  373 

you  should  refer  in  the  presence  of  another  to  a  subject 
which  I  consider  a  secret." 

"  Why,  Anna  !  I  do  not  understand  you — not  tell  Mich  ? 
He  who  has  been  your  firm  friend  and  confidant  for  so 
mauy  years — is  he  now  to  be  excluded?" 

"  Doctor,  you  must  remember  we  are  children  no  longer. 
I  could  not  converse  with  him  as  freely  now  as  I  have  here- 
tofore done — and  besides  that,  I  know  that  Randall  and 
Mich  do  not  feel  very  friendly  to  each  other." 

"  Anna,  confess  that  you  think  that  Mich  would  not 
approve  your  choice  ?" 

"  Well,  I  do  not  know  but  I  have  that  feeling.  But  it 
is  a  matter  that  does  not,  concern  him,  and  besides  that,  I 
think  Mich  has  not  seemed  as  friendly  and  cordial  to  me  of 
late  as  usual,  and  I  had  rather  he  should  not  know  of  my 
engagement." 

"  Humph  !  Mich  not  as  friendly  ?  No,  I  suppose  not. 
Well— well." 

"  Never  mind  Mich  now,  doctor,  let  us  talk  over  my  own 
affairs.  You  are  decidedly  opposed  to  my  engagement  with 
Edward  Randall ;  let  us  understand  the  matter  now — tell 
me  your  objections  fully  ?" 

"  I  will  do  so.  In  the  first  place,  you  know  nothing  of 
his  habits.  He  has  been  away  from  here  almost  entirely 
for  three  or  four  years — now,  Anna,  what  do  you  know  of 
his  conduct  during  his  absence  ?" 

"Why,  nothing  in  particular — but  you  know  we  have 
kept  up  a  correspondence,  and  judge  from  his  letters." 


3T4r        OLD     II  A  UN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  What  can  yon  know  by  them  ?" 

"  I  know  hini  to  be  agreeable,  talented,  and  honorable." 

"  You  know  his  language  is." 

"  Doctor,  do  not  talk  blindly.  Do  you  know  anything 
against  his  moral  character  ?" 

"  Anna,  I  will  talk  plainly — I  do  not  know  positively  any- 
thing prejudicial  to  him,  but  I  judge  from  many  little  things. 
What  I  most  dislike  in  him,  is  his  practice  of  attempting  to 
flatter  everybody  with  whom  he  comes  in  contact ;  now  no 
sincere,  generous,  upright  nature  will  do  this.  Hear  me 
further.  He  does  not  waste  his  blandishments  upon  ladies 
alone,  but  also  upon  gentlemen.  I  have  observed  him 
closely — he  comes  around  me  with  his  cajoling  that  he 
may  secure  my  good  will.  Now,  Anna,  if  he  were  frank, 
open-hearted,  and  manly,  I  should  like  him  much  better." 

"Doctor,  you  censure  that  fault  very  severely — I  do  not 
think  an  honest  and  upright  character  incompatible  with  a 
flattering  tongue.  I  will  acknowledge  that  Eandall  is  very 
much  given  to  complimenting,  but  that  is  a  folly  of  youth. 
Is  that  your  objection  ?" 

"No,  indeed  !  He  has  no  permanent  business;  from  re- 
marks his  father  has  let  drop,  I  judge  that  his  wavering, 
unstable  purposes  have  caused  a  great  deal  of  trouble. 
Now,  Anna,  believe  me,  for  my  experience  qualifies  me  to 
iudge  better  than  you,  that  no  man  can  be  either  useful, 
respected,  or  contented,  without  some  regular  employment 
— something  to  occupy  his  time  and  thoughts." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  right — but  Randall  has  some  employ- 


PRESSING     TIIE     SIEGE.  375 

ment.  He  has  been  offered  an  interest  in  the  extensive 
forwarding  and  commission  house  of  the  Messrs.  Jones,  and 
as  soon  as  he  is  able  to  furnish  a  certain  amount  of  capital, 
he  is  to  be  taken  as  a  partner." 

"  A  certain  amount  of  capital !  and  where  pray  is  he  to 
get  that  capital,  living  as  he  does  now,  and  indulging  in 
all  the  follies  and  expenses  of  a  man  of  fortune  ?  when  do 
you  suppose  will  he  accumulate  anything  ?" 

"He  has  a  large  salary;  I  presume  he  does  not  spend  it 
all.  I  know  you  judge  him  too  harshly — I  do  not  think 
he  is  extravagant." 

"  Don't  eh  ?  child,  you  don't  know  anything  about  it — 
*arge  salary  !  How  much,  pray  ?  But  there's  no  use  talking 
—  you  will  not  believe  anything  I  may  advance." 

"  Doctor,  do  have  patience  with  me — you  cannot  suppose 
I  will  take  mere  suppositions  for  facts,  in  a  matter  of  such 
vital  importance  to  myself.  Have  you  nothing  else  against 
him  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  believe  he  is  deceiving  you.  If  you  had  not 
money  he  would  never  have  hovered  about  you  as  he  has 
done  for  two  months  past.  Your  fortune " 

"  No,  no  !  I  will  not  credit  that.  He  could  not  be  so 
base — you  cannot  believe  it.  Say,  doctor,  you  do  not  think 
that  ?" 

"  I  do,  Anna,  from  my  soul  I  do.  Edward  Randall  would 
not  have  sought  your  hand  if  you  had  been  a  poor  girl." 

"  I  do  not  believe  it — am  I  nothing  of  myself?  Has  the 
friendship  of  years  been  bought  with  money  ?  Was  not  he 


376       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

the  playmate  of  my  childhood — my  companion  before  I  had 
anything  but  what  your  love  provided  me  ?  And  shall  I 
believe  now,  since  the  friendship  of  childhood  has  ripened 
into  love,  that  it  is  merely  selfish  ?  no,  I  will  not ;  you  wrong 
him.  If  I  could  believe  him  influenced  by  so  base  a  motive, 
I  should  surely  lose  all  respect  for  him.  For  the  fortune 
that  has  been  bestowed  upon  me,  I  do  not  care  ;  for  that,  of 
course,  will  belong  to  my  husband,  whoever  he  may  be,  but 
I  would  be  sincerely,  honestly  loved  for  myself  alone.  If 
not,  what  guarantee  have  I  of  continued  happiness  ?  wealth 
may  be  lost  by  some  accident.  That  is  a  frail  foundation  to 
build  happiness  upon.  But  I  cannot  believe  it  of  him." 

"  What  will  convince  you,  Anna  ?  Are  you  willing  I 
should  test  him  ?" 

"Yes,  anything.  I  know  he  will  prove  true — but  you 
wrong  him  by  the  suspicion." 

"  I  hope  I  do,  and  that  I  may  find  myself  mistaken.  But 
in  order  that  his  motives  may  be  correctly  judged,  he  must 
remain  in  ignorance  of  my  suspicions,  for  otherwise  he  will 
be  on  his  guard — now,  Anna,  be  guided  by  me.  You  are 
young,  too  young  to  marry  yet — and  if  he  urges  an  early 
marriage,  which  I  am  convinced  he  will  do — I  want  you  to 
object.  Do  not  refer  to  your  property  hi  any  way,  let  him 
alone  and  see  what  he  will  do." 

"  Oh,  doctor  !  why  have  you  filled  my  mind  with  suspi- 
cions of  his  sincerity  ?  You  say  I  do  not  love  him.  If  you 
could  know  the  pain  you  have  given  me,  by  exciting  distrust, 
you  would  recall  your  words." 


PRESSING     THE     SIEGE.  377 

"  Anna,  do  not  weep.  I  beg  of  you  do  not  let  what  I 
have  said  make  you  unhappy,  for  if  he  is  really  worthy  of 
your  love,  hti  will  prove  it,  and  you  will  feel  so  much  the 
more  secure  of  happiness." 

"  It  will  be  ungenerous  for  me  to  keep  from  his  know- 
ledge my  suspicions." 

"  Not  at  all — believe  him  perfect  until  he  proves  himself 
otherwise.  Forget  what  I  have  said  for  the  present  ?" 

"  I  wish  I  could,  but  that  is  not  possible.  What  would 
you  have  me  do  ?" 

"  Nothing,  leave  him  to  me.  All  I  ask  of  you  is  to  make 
no  more  promises,  form  no  more  plans  without  my  know- 
ledge or  advice.  Will  you  do  this  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  do  so.  I  am  sorry  I  did 
make  any  promises  without  your  consent.  But  I  did  not 
dream  of  any  opposition  or  objections  from  you." 

11  We'll  let  that  pass.  Dry  your  eyes,  now,  I  do  not  like 
to  see  tears  in  them.  You  know  I  would  not  cause  you 
pain,  except  for  your  own  good.  I  believe  that  you  are 
deceived — led  away  by  smooth  words  and  a  fine  exterior,  and 
would  you  have  me — could  you  expect  I  would  sit  quietly 
by,  while  I  entertained  this  belief  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  doubt  the  kindness  of  your  motives,  but 
I  cannot  believe  that  there  is  any  foundation  for  such  a 
belief." 

"  Humph,  unbelieving  still — convince  a  woman  against 
her  will,  and  she  remains  of  the  same  opinion  still." 

"Prove  to  me  conclusively  that  his  love  is  mercenary 


378      OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

and  though  it  breaks  my  heart,  I  will  resign  him.  I  would 
not  love  him,  no  1  I  should  scorn  him,  hate  him  for  his 
meanness." 

"  If  I  do  not  prove  it  to  you,  beyond  a  doubt,  I  will  place 
your  hand  in  his  and  bid  you  God  speed — but  do  not 
let  us  talk  of  it  any  more — let  me  order  the  carnage  for 
you,  Anna,  you  said  you  had  some  shopping  to  do  to-day, 
did  you  not  ?" 

"  I  did  think  of  going  out,  but  I  will  postpone  it  until  to- 
morrow." 

"  Better  go  to-day — I  will  order  the  carriage — you  must 
not  go  and  brood  over  what  I  have  said.  Remember,  you 
are  to  forget  it  all  until  I  choose  to  call  it  to  your  recollec- 
tion, will  you  ?" 

"  I  will  try  to,  but  I  do  not  expect  to  succeed." 

"  All  I  ask  of  you  is  to  delay  the  ratifying  of  your  engage- 
ment ?" 

"  I  have  promised  I  would.  If  you  will  go  with  me  I  will 
go  out." 

"  You  had  better  go  and  get  some  of  your  young  friends 
to  go  with  you  ?" 

"  I  do  not  feel  like  entertaining  or  being  entertained  to- 
day, and  I  know  you  will  excuse  my  dullness.  I  do  not 
like  to  go  alone — will  you  go  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish  me  to." 

Anna  left  the  library  to  prepare  herself  for  her  shopping 
excursion,  and  the  doctor  ordered  the  carriage,  in  which 
they  were  soon  seated,  and  rolled  along  the  broad  avenue, 


PRESSING     THE     SIEGE.  370 

and  joined  the  rapid  current  which  ceaselessly  runs  through 
the  main  artery  of  the  commercial  city. 

Several  hours  were  passed  in  the  selection  of  the  different 
articles  she  needed,  and  in  chatting  with  acquaintances 
whom  she  chanced  to  meet,  when  she  returned  home  feeling 
in  better  spirits. 

After  dinner,  she  took  a  new  publication  which  she  had 
that  morning  purchased,  and  endeavored  to  become  interest- 
ed in  it,  but  it  was  a  vain  attempt,  for  she  was  constantly 
glancing  out  of  the  window  in  expectation  of  a  call  from 
him  who  had  been  the  subject  of  conversation  with  the 
doctor,  longing,  yet  dreading  to  see  him — strange  as  it  may 
seem.  She  could  not  banish  from  her  memory  the  conver- 
sation of  the  morning,  and  though  she  was  very  unwilling  to 
believe  the  doctor's  suspicions  well  founded,  still  they  had  a 
great  influence  with  her,  and  she  could  not  divest  herself  of 
the  doubts  and  fears  they  had  raised  in  her  own  mind. 

All  that  had  been  said  to  her  by  Randall,  was  dwelt  upon 
and  reviewed  again  and  again,  to  convince  herself  that  she 
was  loved  as  she  wished  to  be  ;  while  thus  engaged  she 
heard  some  one  enter  the  hall.  She  started  from  her  seat 
to  meet  him,  for  she  knew  his  step,  but  sank  back  again, 
as  that  dreadful  doubt  rushed  through  her  mind,  and  instead 
of  the  cordial  happy  greeting  he  expected,  he  was  met  in  a 
chilling  manner.  This  astonished  him  for  a  moment,  but 
his  vanity  soon  accounted  for  it  satisfactorily  to  himself. 
He  concluded  she  did  not  wish  to  seem  too  forward,  and 
that  she  preferred  he  should  act  the  devoted  lover,  which 


380      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBKOKEB. 

lie  was  quite  willing  to  do.  Advancing,  in  the  most  eager, 
earnest  voice,  he  said,  as  he  offered  his  hand  : 

"  My  dearest  girl,  it  seems  ages  since  I  saw  you — I  have 
done  penance  this  day  in  staying  away  from  you — come,  sit 
down  near  me.  Let  me  hold  this  fair  hand  in  mine.  Why, 
Anna  !  why  so  distant  ?  you  do  not  fear  me,  certainly. 
Anna,  what  does  this  coldness  mean  ?  Do  you  regret  pro- 
mises you  made  me  last  night  ?" 

"  No,  no.  But  free  my  hand,  I  would  rather  sit  by  the 
window.  It  will  be  a  beautiful  moonlight  this  evening." 

"  Would  you  like  to  walk,  Anna  ?  it  will  be  pleasant,  I 
think." 

"  No,  I  thank  you,  I  prefer  to  remain  in  the  house.  I 
have  been  out  most  of  the  day,  and  the  doctor  considers  the 
night  air  unhealthy." 

"  Does  he  think  your  ride  last  evening  had  any  injurious 
effects  upon  you  ?" 

"  No,  not  that  I  am  aware  of." 

"  Have  you  told  him  of  your  promise  to  me  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  What  does  he  say  ?  I  hope  I  shall  find  favor  in  hia 
sight." 

"  He  thinks  I  have  been  hasty." 

"  Do  you  wish  you  had  been  less  so  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  hope  I  never  shall  have  cause  for  wish- 
ing so." 

"  Anna,  do  you  doubt  my  love  ?  Can  vows,  protestations 
of  devotion,  and  sincerity,  add  to  your  confidence  in  me  ?" 


PRESSING     THE     SIEGE.  381 

"  No,  no,  I  ask  not  for  them,  I  prefer  that  your  whole 
life  may  be  an  evidence  of  all  that." 

"  It  shall  be — give  me  but  the  right  to  be  near  you,  and 
every  wish  of  your  heart  shall  be  gratified.  Say,  when  will 
you  be  mine  ?  Name  an  early  day,  for,  until  I  can  claim 
you  as  my  bride,  I  shall  not  be  able  give  my  thoughts  or 
attention  to  anything  else." 

"  Oh,  Edward  !  you  must  not  speak  of  marriage,  yet.  I 
am  too  young  to  think  of  such  a  thing  for  a  long  time 
yet." 

"  Too  young  !  You  arc  not  too  young  to  love.  Anna,  do 
you  love  me  ?  If  so,  why  wish  to  put  off  the  day  when  we 
may  be  all  the  world  to  each  other  ?" 

"  Why  such  haste,  cannot  you  come  often  and  see  me  ? 
may  we  not  enjoy  each  other's  society  every  evening  ?  You 
can  come  here  as  often  as  you  like,  I  will  not  debar  you  that 
privilege." 

"  Oh,  Anna  Hervey  !  you  do  not  love  me.  Anna,  come 
and  sit  here  by  me — let  me  talk  to  yon.  You  do  not,  can- 
not understand  or  know  the  love  that  consumes  me,  if  you 
would  be  content  with  such  a  measure  of  intercourse.  Come, 
Anna,  out  of  that  cold  moonlight." 

"  Edward,  you  are  exacting,  but  to  please  you  I  will 
come.  There,  now  I  am  seated  by  you — what  more  can 
you  urge  here,  than  when  I  sat  in  '  that  cold  moonlight  ?' " 

"  I  can  urge  my  love — I  can  clasp  this  soft  white  hand  in 
mine,  and  gaze  into  those  liquid  eyes.  Oh,  Anna,  you  are 
beautiful,  you  know  not  how  beautiful  to  me." 


382       OLD      1IAUN,      THE      PAWNBROKER. 

"  Edward,  do  not  flatter  me,  do  not  I  beg  of  you — you 
make  me  despise  myself  and  doubt  your  sincerity." 

"  Doubt  my  sincerity  !  Why,  Anna,  what  do  you  mean  ? 
You  Bay  that  to  try  me,  and  to  pay  for  it,  I  shall  claim  a 
kiss  from  those  soft  lips." 

"  I  shall  not  grant  it,  then.  You  must  not  assume  too 
many  privileges." 

"  Cruel  girl  1  it  is  not  a  privilege,  but  a  right.  Are  you 
not  my  betrothed  wife  ?" 

"  Oh,  well,  I  may  change  my  mind,  so  I  shall  not  grant 
you  too  much  license  until  I  am  in  reality  your  wife." 

"I  shall  take  it  then.  Why  resist  me  now,  Anna?  I 
have  kissed  you  many  a  tune  when  you  were  a  little  girl." 

"  I  am  no  longer  a  little  girl.  Edward,  do  not — I  am  in 
earnest — you  will  offend  me  if  you  persist." 

Foolish  girl — you  cold-hearted  creature,  you  do  not  love 
me,  that  is  certain.  Well,  I  will  let  you  go  this  time,  but  I 
hope  soon  to  have  those  rose  leaves  to  taste  whenever  I 
please.  Sit  still,  Anna,  I  will  not  annoy  you  with  my  un- 
welcome caresses.  Now,  my  love,  when  will  you  be  mar- 
ried ?" 

"  When  I  am  twenty." 

"  Twenty  !  two  years  !  Do  you  think  I  will  wait  two 
years  ?" 

"  You  will  if  you  love  me." 

"  It  is  because  I  do  love  you  that  I  will  not  wait.  Anna, 
you  must  be  my  wife  now,  very  soon." 

"  When  would  you  call  soon — I  have  a  curiosity  to  know  ?" 


PRESSING     THE     SIEGE.  383 

"To  consult  my  own  feelings  alone,  I  should  say  to- 
morrow." 

"  Edward  Randall,  you  are  crazy  !" 

"  Only  impatient  for  the  privileges  you  deny  me  now.  I 
know  that  would  not  accord  with  your  feelings,  and  so  I 
will  say  the  first  of  June  " 

"  Why,  it  is  the  middle  of  April  now;  only  six  weeks  to 
get  ready  to  be  married  in.  Why,  Edward,  that  would  be 
too  much  haste  altogether,  even  if  I  were  willing,  which  I 
assure  you  I  am  not." 

"  When  will  you  be  willing  ? — name  the  earliest  day." 

"  I  told  you,  when  I  am  twenty." 

"  You  jest  ;  talk  seriously,  my  love." 

"  Never  was  more  serious  in  my  life  ;  for  my  part  I  do 
not  consider  marriage  a  suitable  subject  for  jesting." 

"Anna,  you  cannot  really  intend  to  make  me  wait  two 
long  years." 

"  Oh,  they  will  quickly  pass." 

"  They  will  with  you,  but  be  endless  if  spent  alone.  Let 
me  persuade  you;  why  do  you  wish  to  delay  ?  Tell  me  your 
reasons,  if  you  have  any." 

"  I  am  too  young." 

"  Pshaw,  nonsense;  that  is  some  of  the  doctor's  teaching. 
I  will  not  listen  to  such  a  foolish  objection,  for  it  is  none  in 
reality." 

"  Indeed  it  is.  I  have  so  much  to  learn  yet  before  I  am 
fit  to  assume  the  responsibilities  of  a  housekeeper." 

"  Who  does  the  housekeeping  now,  pray  ?" 


384:       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Oh,  well,  it  will  be  a  different  matter  entirely,  keeping 
house  for  a  husband.  I  am  sure  you  would  be  more  exact- 
ing, and  more  difficult  to  please  than  the  doctor." 

"  Indeed,  I  would  not.  I  would  lighten  your  care.  It  would 
be  much  easier,  even  if  you  wished  to  keep  house  ;  but  that 
we  need  not  do  ;  we  could  board,  we  would  travel  about  for 
a  time,  spend  the  summer  at  the  different  watering-places, 
and  enjoy  ourselves." 

"  Oh,  that  I  can  do  now." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true,  but  I  cannot  be  with  you  unless  you 
will  consent  to  be  married  ;  or  rather,  it  would  not  be  proper 
that  I  should  be  with  you  as  constantly  as  I  would  like  to 
be." 

"  Suppose  I  did  consent,  could  you  leave  your  business 
to  go  about  ?" 

"  I  should  make  it  my  business  to  go  with  you  everywhere 
you  might  wish,  and  contribute  in  every  possible  way  to 
your  happiness.  Say,  dearest !  do  you  relent  ?  Say  you 
will  be  mine,  mine  this  spring  ?" 

"  No,  Edward,  I  cannot  consent  to  so  early  a  marriage, 
and  more  than  that,  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  have  you 
neglect  your  business,  or  what  was  for  your  interest,  for  the 
sake  of  going  about  with  me." 

"  I  should  not  be  willing  to  hinder  you  from  going  and 
coming  wherever  it  might  suit  your  pleasure." 

"  If  so,  why  urge  so  early  a  marriage  ?  we  have  been 
almost  strangers  to  each  other,  during  the  four  years  past — 
let  us  wait  till  we  become  better  acquainted  with  each  other's 


PRESSING      THE     SIEGE.  385 

disposition.  There  is  no  necessity  for  haste,  we  are  both 
young  yet." 

'  Why  did  you  not  think  of  all  this  last  evening  ?  Stran- 
gers 1  have  we  not  known  each  other  from  childhood,  can  I 
— am  I  changed  ?  Anna,  these  are  not  suggestions  of  your 
own  ;  tell  me  is  it  not  so.  Has  not  the  doctor  advised  you, 
and  induced  you  to  offer  this  opposition  to  my  wishes  ?" 

"  He  did  advise  me  not  to  be  in  haste." 

"  Does  he  approve  of  your  engagement  with  me  ?  You  do 
not  answer  :  I  know  now  what  this  hesitation  means.  But 
what  objection  can  he  offer  ?  Say,  will  you  not  tell  me  ?" 

' '  Edward,  do  not  ask  me,  I  cannot  tell  you.  I  think  he 
has  been  prejudiced  against  you,  but  by  whom  I  cannot 
tell." 

"By  heavens  !  I'll  find  out.  I  know  he  does  not  like  me. 
Why,  he  knows  better  than  I  do  ;  but,  Anna,  will  you  allow 
yourself  to  be  influenced  by  him  ?  He  has  no  claim  upon 
your  obedience." 

"  Edward,  do  not  say  that;  has  not  he  been  father,  friend, 
everything  to  me  ?  He  has  every  claim  imaginable  upon 
my  love  and  respect.  And  if  he  oppose  or  object  to  your 
wishes,  I  feel  assured  it  is  because  he  thinks  it  is  for  my 
happiness  to  do  so." 

"  He  might  have  other  motives  for  his  opposition  to  your 
marriage." 

"What,  pray?" 

"  Your  fortune  would  pass  from  his  hands." 

"  Edward  Randall,  what  would  you  insinuate  ?" 


386      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBBOKKK. 

"  Nothing  ;  forgive  me,  Anna,  I  do  not  know  what  I  say. 
But  I  cannot  lose  you." 

"  Delay  does  not  imply  any  change  in  the  final  result." 

"  It  will,  I  see  it  plainly  I  will  not  consent  to  this  delay  ; 
be  mine  now.  Anna,  do  not  deprive  yourself  and  me  of  so 
much  happiness  as  you  will  do  by  delaying  our  marriage. 
I  cannot  consent  to  it." 

"  You  will  be  obliged  to.  If  I  am  not  worth  waiting  for, 
I  am  not  worth  the  taking." 

"  Oh,  Anna,  let  me  plead  my  love  ;  any  sacrifice  but  that, 
I  am  willing  to  make  to  please  you  or  your  guardian,  but 
this  long  delay  is  unreasonable — there  is  neither  sense  nor 
justice  in  asking  it.  You  have  promised  to  be  my  wife,  and 
you  must  be.  I  will  not  release  you  from  your  promise." 

"  I  have  not  asked  to  be  released  ;  you  allow  your  impa- 
tience to  run  wild  with  your  reason  and  judgment.  I  ask 
for  delay,  and  you  talk  as  though  that  must  separate  us  for 
ever." 

"  It  will.  Doctor  Foster  never  would  object  to  me  in  this 
manner,  unless  he  intended  to  prevent  your  marrying  me.  I 
say,  I  know  he  has  some  disguised  motive  ;  there  is  some 
other  person  that  he  prefers — and  I  know  who  it  is,  too,  but 
as  there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  he  will  repent  the  day  he 
approaches  you." 

"  Hush,  hush,  I  say.  Edward,  you  forget  yourself  ;  what 
do  you  mean — no  living  soul  but  you  has  ever  spoken  to  me 
of  love.  Who  do  you  mean  ?  You  are  mistaken,  I  know 
you  are." 


PRESSING     THE      SIEGE.  387 

tf  I  am  not.     Be  mine  now,  Anna,  I  cannot  trust  to  time." 

"  Have  you  no  confidence  in  me,  Edward  ?" 

"  I  cannot  be  secure  of  your  love  until  you  are  acknow- 
ledged before  the  world  as  my  wife." 

"  If  I  do  not  love  you  enough  to  remain  constant  for  two 
years,  what  can  you  expect  from  marriage  ?" 

"  Everything.  Once  my  wife,  Anna,  you  will  feel  a  deeper, 
more  ardent  attachment  than  you  feel  now.  I  see  your 
heart  is  but  half  awakened  yet." 

"  You  destroy  all  the  romance  ;  the  idea  of  marrying  that 
I  may  love  you  more,  is  not  agreeable  to  me.  I  think  I  love 
you  very  much  now." 

"  How  composed  and  unconcerned  you  say  that.  I  see 
plainly  I  must  secure  you  now,  or  the  little  love  you  do 
feel  for  me  will  escape  me.  You  will  meet  some  one  who 
will  arouse  that  cold  heart  more  than  I  have  been  able  to 
do." 

"  It  would  be  unfortunate  if  I  should  marry  you,  and  meet 
that  some  one  afterwards.  I  should  think,  if  you  believe  as 
you  say,  that  I  do  not  more  than  half  love  you,  that  you 
would  be  afraid  to  run  such  a  risk.  You  seem  very  willing 
and  urgent  to  take  my  half  love  ;  that  is  contrary  to  what  I 
have  heard  of  men's  dispositions." 

"Your  half  love  is  more  than  all  the  world  beside  to  me, 
and  as  I  said,  you  would  love  me  more  as  your  husband  than 
you  do  now  as  a  lover." 

"  If  you  are  willing  to  marry  me,  believing  as  you  say, 
that  I  do  not  more  than  half  love  you,  I  am  not  willing 


388      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

that  you  should.  I  think  it  very  wrong  for  persons  to 
marry  unless  they  feel  assured  of  each  other's  affection.  If 
I  had  doubted  yours,  as  you  do  mine  I  would  not  have  con- 
sented so  hastily." 

"  You  regret  it  now.     Say  so  ?" 

"  I  regret  your  impatience  and  want  of  confidence  in  me, 
nothing  else." 

"  If  you  do  not  regret  your  promise,  and  do  love  me, 
why  will  you  not  promise  to  marry  me  in  June  ?" 

"  Edward,  we  will  not  go  over  it  all  again,  you  cannot 
move  me.  I  have  promised  to  marry  you,  and  intend  to 
keep  my  promise,  but  I  will  not  be  married  so  soon  as  the 
first  of  June,  so  let  us  talk  of  something  else." 

"  No,  I  will  not.  Why  will  you  be  so  perverse  ?  If  that 
is  too  soon,  set  a  time  for  yourself." 

"  I  have  done  so  already." 

"  I  will  not  wait  two  years.  You  do  not you  are 

deceiving  me.  I  will  not  submit  to  this." 

"  Very  well.  I  will  release  you  from  your  engagement ; 
perhaps  it  were  as  well  to  do  so." 

"  Anna,  why  will  you  tantalize  me  so  ?" 

"  Edward,  why  will  you  be  so  foolish  ?" 

"  Once  more  I  ask  you,  Anna,  will  you  marry  me  1" 

"  Yes." 

"  This  summer?" 

"  No." 

"  When  ?  Don't  say  two  years  again.  I  will  not  wait  so 
long." 


PRESSING     THE     SIEGE.  389 

"  Not  one  month  less  will  I  give  up  my  freedom  ;  for  I 
begin  to  discover  I  shall  have  a  master  when  I  take  you 
for  my  husband." 

"  Anna,  I  am  your  slave  in  everything  else — you  know  it. 
All  I  ask  of  you  is  to  become  mine  beyond  any  earthly  power 
to  separate  us — and  you  shall  be  as  free  as  air.  I  would 
not  control  even  a  thought.  Pledge  yourself  to  me.  I  care 
not  how  privately,  how  secretly." 

"  Stop  !  Edward,  do  you  know  what  you  are  saying  ? 
Have  I  ever  given  you  reason  to  suppose  I  would  do  so 
mean  a  thing  ?" 

"  How  could  it  possibly  affect  you  ?  It  should  be  a  secret 
between  ourselves." 

"  Edward,  do  not  make  me  despise  you.  Let  go  of  my 
hand.  I  cannot,  I  will  not  listen,  to  such  persuasions." 

"  Anna,  sit  still.  Hear  me,  for  one  moment,  hear  me. 
Have  you  not  yourself  driven  me  to  make  this  proposition  ? 
I  ask  you  to  become  my  wife  ;  you  say  you  will,  but  when  ? 
a  delay  beyond  my  powers  of  endurance.  Now,  your  only 
objection  is,  that  you  are  too  young  ;  you  do  not  want  to 
give  up  your  freedom.  As  though  by  becoming  my  wife 
you  would  in  the  least  abridge  it.  If  you  will  not  become 
my  wife  before  the  world,  I  say  I  have  not  asked  too 
much  in  asking  you  to  pledge  yourself  to  me  in  private." 

"  I  have  promised  ;  that  is  as  binding  upon  me  as  any 
words  or  act  of  mine  could  make  it,  except  I  take  upon  my- 
gelf  the  marriage  vow  ;  that  I  hope  you  do  not  think  I  would 


390      OLD     HATJN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

do,  unless  publicly,  and  with  the  consent  and  approbation  of 
my  guardian." 

"Suppose  he  never  will  consent  or  approve,  what  will 
you  do  then.  Shall  I  be  sacrificed  ?" 

"  He  will  consent,  if  I  wish  him  to.  I  mean,  if  it  is  for  my 
happiness  that  I  should  marry  you." 

"  You  say  if  you  wish  him  to.     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  should  not  wish  him  to  consent,  if  he  thought  us  not 
suited  to  each  other." 

"  Who  is  the  best  judge  in  this  case,  he  or  ourselves  ?" 

"  Ourselves  at  present  ;  but  it  is  possible  that  we  may 
change  our  opinion.  Perhaps,  if  you  wait  awhile  you  may 
be  glad  I  have  influenced  you  to  do  so." 

"Not  influenced — compelled  would  be  a  much  better 
term.  I  shall  not  change.  You,  I  see,  have  regretted 
already  your  promise,  but  I  will  not  release  you." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  released  ;  and  I  assure  you  once 
more,  I  do  not  regret  it." 

"  Well,  to  convince  me  that  you  do  not,  say  that  you  will 
marry  me  this  spring.  Do  not  answer,  wait  till  I  have 
finished.  Think  of  it  to-night ;  consult  your  own  heart,  your 
own  feelings.  Do  not  ask  the  advice  of  the  doctor.  He  is 
not  capable  of  judging  of  my  feelings,  he  cannot  comprehend 
the  ardor  and  impatience  of  a  love  like  that  which  I  cherish 
for  you.  You  are  my  guardian  angel ;  for  you  and  with  you 
I  could  battle  manfully  with  the  trials  and  troubles  of  life — 
but  if  I  must  wait  long,  long  years,  my  energies  will  flag,  my 


PRESSING     THE     SIEGE.  391 

interest  in  everything  will  fail — and  when  you  are  ready  to 
give  me  your  hand  I  shall  not  be  worthy  of  you,  if  that  hour 
should  ever  arrive.  Be  mine  now,  while  life  and  hope  are 
strong  within  us.  What  have  you  to  fear,  what  to  dread. 
You  are  alone  in  the  world  ;  what  if  this  old  man  should 
die  ?  who  would  you  have  then  to  depend  upon  ?  I  might 
be  far  away,  unless  you  give  me  the  right  to  be  for  ever  near 
you  ;  for  to  come  here  and  sit  and  look  at  you,  and  hear 
you  speak,  is  not  enough  to  satisfy  such  a  nature  as  mine. 
I  want  to  feel  that  you  are  mine  ;  that  I  may  clasp  you  to 
me,  and  shield  you  from  danger  ;  to  feel  your  soft  breath 
upon  my  cheek,  and  hear  words  of  love  in  my  ear.  Weep- 
ing, are  you  weeping,  Anna  ?  You  do  relent ;  you  will  be 
mine.  Say  you  will  be  mine  ?" 

"  No,  Edward,  no.  Do  not  tempt  me.  You  carry  me 
away  upon  the  tide  of  your  imagination.  I  love  you.  I 
would  not  lose  your  love,  but  I  cannot  promise  to  marry 
you  yet.  Sometime,  but  not  this  summer." 

"  Cold,  cruel,  selfish  girl,  go.  I  will  not  detain  you 
longer.  You  do  not  love  me." 

"  Edward,  do  not  go  in  anger.     Stay  ?" 

'"  Will  you  promise  ?" 

"  I  cannot.  You  know  I  cannot  without  his  knowledge. 
If  yon  are  so  anxious,  why  not  get  his  consent  ?" 

"  Have  you  not  told  me  that  he  will  not  consent  ?  Shall 
I  present  myself  to  him  to  be  refused  ?  It  is  enough  for 
me  to  know  it  from  your  lips." 

"  You  are  unjust,  unreasonable,  Edward.     You  ask  of  me 


392      OLD     IfAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

what  you  have  no  right  to  ask.  You  wish  me  to  disregard 
the  wishes  of  my  best  friend." 

"  Well,  if  his  friendship  is  worth  more  to  you  than  my 
love,  keep  it.  Good-bye." 

"  When  shall  I  see  you  again,  Edward  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  as  you  ever  will.  You  will  not  grieve  if 
you  do  not." 

"  How  unkind  !  Edward,  I  do  not  deserve  such  treat- 
ment as  this." 

"  Forgive  me,  Anna,  let  me  go  before  I  offend  again." 

"Will  you  come  to-morrow  evening?" 

"  Yes.  Anna,  pray  have  mercy  upon  me  when  I  do  come. 
Good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Anna,  as  she  gave  him  her  hand;  he 
then  left  the  room,  and  soon  after  Anna  watched  his  retreat- 
ing figure  in  the  pale  moonlight. 

But  little  sleep  visited  her  eyes  that  night.  All  of  her 
lover's  ardor,  impetuosity,  and  impatience  came  back  to  her 
mind.  Could  it  be,  she  asked  again  and  again  of  herself 
that  the  suspicions  of  the  doctor  were  well  founded  ? 
could  he  possibly  plead  his  love  so  earnestly,  if  he  did  not 
feel  it  ?  could  all  this  be  true  ?  If  so,  whom  should  she 
believe,  whom  trust  ?  He  had  been  her  friend  and  com- 
panion  for  years — ever  since  her  childhood.  Could  it  be  he 
would  feign  a  passion  he  did  not  feel,  for  mere  mercenary 
considerations  ? 

Ah  1  little  did  she  know  of  the  deceit  and  dissimulation 
men  are  capable  of  using. 


TBAILING     THE     FOX.  393 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

TRAILING    THE     FOX. 

EARLY  on  the  following  day,  Doctor  Foster  went  to  con- 
sult with  his  attorney,  Mr.  Pierce.  From  the  little  that  had 
come  to  his  knowledge,  he  had  been  enabled  to  gather  the 
substance  of  the  conversation  of  the  previous  evening,  and 
it  was  on  this  account  that  he  sought  his  lawyer.  Anna  had 
not  communicated  to  the  doctor  the  urgent  appeals  of  Ran- 
dall to  induce  her  to  consent  to  an  early  marriage,  nor  the 
persuasions  he  had  used.  She  felt  ashamed  to  do  so  ;  she 
felt  conscious  that  the  doctor  would  think  less  of  him  even 
than  he  did  now,  if  he  were  to  know  all  that  had  passed  ; 
and  she  concluded  to  keep  to  herself  what  had  transpired. 
She  thought  over  all  that  he  had  urged,  and  was  almost  in- 
clined to  yield  to  his  persuasions,  and  be  married  sooner  than 
she  had  at  first  intended,  but  then  the  questions  recurred  to 
her,  Why  is  he  in  such  haste  ?  Can  it  be  from  any  un- 
worthy motive  ?  While  she  was  debating  these  questions 
alone  in  her  chamber,  Doctor  Foster  and  Mr.  Pierce  were 
doing  the  same  in  the  office  of  the  latter.  Mr.  Pierce  knew 


394:     OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

nothing  in  particular  of  Edward  Randall,  and  consequently 
could  give  the  doctor  but  little  advice,  but  he  promised  to 
learn  something  about  him — for  he  agreed  with  the  doctor 
that  it  would  be  wrong  to  allow  a  marriage  to  be  consum- 
mated between  his  ward  and  a  man  whose  only  aim  was  to 
possess  himself  of  her  property,  for  the  purpose  of  squander- 
ing it  away  upon  his  own  indulgences.  Knowing  her  pecu- 
liar sentiments,  they  foresaw  that  she  would  not  consent  to 
have  it  settled  upon  herself,  and  therefore,  after  debating 
the  matter  a  long  time,  the  doctor  consented  to  leave  it 
entirely  to  Mr.  Pierce,  to  obtain  information  of  Randall's 
habits  and  intentions,  as  he  could  best  do  it,  without  his 
motives  being  suspected. 

Immediately  upon  the  doctor's  leaving  his  office,  Mr. 
Pierce  went  into  an  adjoining  room  where  Mich  sat  engaged 
in  writing,  and  said  to  him  : 

"  Mich,  come  in  here  a  few  moments,  I  have  got  some- 
thing to  do,  about  which  I  think  you  can  assist  me." 

"You  have  had  Doctor  Foster  closeted  with  you,  have 
you  not  ?"  said  Mich,  following  Mr.  Pierce  into  his  private 
room. 

"  Yes — and  it  is  an  affair  of  his,  that  I  want  your  help 
upon.  His  ward  is  about  to  marry  it  seems,  and  the  old 
doctor  does  not  feel  quite  satisfied  with  the  young  man,  and 
he  wants  to  learn  something  more  of  his  habits,  and  also  to 
discover  whether  his  motives  are  those  which  alone  should 
actuate  him.  The  doctor  is  suspicious,  whether  with 
reason  or  not  I  cannot  say,  but  it  is  rather  out  of  my 


TRAILING     THE     FOX.  395 

liiic  of  business.  Still,  as  the  doctor  is  an  old  friend,  and 
tliis  young  lady  a  client  of  mine,  I  feel  considerable  interest 
in  them,  and  should  be  sorry  to  see  so  handsome  a  fortune 
as  hers  squandered." 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do,  sir?" 

"Do  you  know  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  Edward 
Randall  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  You  do  not  look  very  much  pleased  with  the  business, 
Mich.  If  you  have  any  objections  to  attend  to  it,  I  will  get 
one  of  the  clerks,  although  I  would  prefer  that  no  one 
should  know  anything  about  it  but  ourselves." 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing,  sir,  to  do  all  that  I  can  in  the 
matter,"  said  Mich,  with  forced  composure. 

"Mich,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?  yesterday  and  to- 
day you  have  not  acted  as  though  you  had  energy  enough 
to  get  about.  Are  you  sick  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  am  perfectly  well.  I  will  endeavor  to  rouse 
myself  if  you  will  tell  me  what  you  wish  done." 

"Well,  the  doctor  suspects  that  this  Randall  wants  Miss 
Hervey  for  her  money  only  ;  he  wants  some  proof  of  this — 
if  it  is  to  be  found,  and  also  he  wants  to  discover  something 
particular  about  Randall's  habits,  for  he  thinks  that  he  is  wild, 
extravagant,  and  dissipated  ;  now,  you  will  be  better  able  to 
learn  about  this  than  I  could,  and  I  want  you  should  find 
where  and  with  whom  he  is  in  the  habit  of  going — can 
you  ?" 

"  I  think  I  can,     But  does  the  doctor  think  that  anything 


396      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

he  may  learn  about  Eandall  will  change  Miss  Hervey's  feel- 
ings ?" 

"  Certainly  he  does.  She  has  promised  to  resign  him  for 
ever,  if  he  shall  find  his  suspicions  confirmed.  She  says  she 
cannot  respect  him,  if  he  has  attempted  to  deceive  her." 

"  Does  she  say  that  ?    But  I  might  have  known  it." 

"  Why,  Mich,  why  should  this  electrify  you  so  ?  Ah, 
Mich,  boy  ;  is  this  the  secret  ?" 

"  Secret  ?" 

"  Secret — yes,  secret.     This  is  no  news  to  you,  is  it  ?" 

"  I  had  heard  of  the  proposed  marriage  before  " 

"  When  did  you  hear  of  it  ?" 

"  Day  before  yesterday,  I  think  it  was." 

"  Think  ?  you  don't  know  certainly,  1  suppose.  Ah, 
Mich  1  murder  will  out." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  sir — it  is  nothing  so  very 
remarkable  that  I  should  hear  of  it,  as  she  is  an  old 
acquaintance  of  mine." 

"  Oh,  no — certainly  not,  nothing  remarkable  either  that 
you  should  feel  very  much  interested  in  the  matter.  Well, 
well,  Mich,  she  is  a  charming  girl,  and  we  must  not  see  her 
sacrificed.  You  will  see  about  this,  then  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  immediately  ;  upon  one  condition,  that  no  one 
knows  of  my  knowledge  or  interference." 

"  All  right — I  will  keep  your  counsel." 

"  I  will  go  now  and  see  a  young  man  who  is  on  intimate 
terms  with  Randall,"  said  Mich,  as  he  left  the  office. 

He  went  directly  in  search  of  Benson.     Finding  him,  he 


TRAILING     THE     FOX.  397 

said,  as  he  sauntered  along  into  the  office  ii.  a  leisurely 

manner. 

"  /  .  -  *  . 

"  Come,  Benson,  it  is  too  fine  a  day  to  sit  hived  up  in  the 
office.  Go  out  with  me  and  take  a  stroll,  will  you  ?" 

"Yes,  I  will  be  glad  to  do  so.  But  what  has  come 
across  you — you  are  generally  the  studious  one  ?'" 

"  Times  are  changed  you  know,  since  I  got  my  papers.  I 
feel  rather  lazy  of  late.  How  is  your  eye  to-day  ?" 

"It  is  black  you  see  yet.  I  would  like  the  chance  to 
balance  my  account  with  Randall." 

"  Have  you  seen  him  since  ?" 

"Yes,  last  night.     I  saw  him  in  Thompson's." 

"  Did  he  say  anything  more  to  you  ?" 

"  No,  not  to  me,  for  I  did  not  give  him  an  opportunity — 
but  he  was  bragging  as  usual,  and  retailing  his  own  affairs 
to  the  public.  I  make  it  a  rule  to  believe  only  about  half 
of  what  he  says.  Still,  I  believe  he  told  the  truth  the  other 
night  about  being  engaged,  but  I  should  not  suppose  any 
sensible  girl  would  have  him,  much  less  that  Miss  Hervey." 

"  I  should  not  think  any  one  would  if  they  could  really 
understand  his  character.  But  what  was  he  speaking  of 
last  night  ?" 

"  Oh,  about  a  span  of  horses,  he  said  he  had  bought 
yesterday.  Where  the  deuce  he  gets  money  to  buy  fast 
horses  with,  is  more  than  I  can  imagine." 

"  Has  he  been  buying  fast  horses  ?" 

"  I  heard  him  telling  some  one  so,  and  betting  on  them, 
too." 


398        OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKEK. 

"  I  should  not  suppose  he  was  able  to  buy  fast  horses — • 
but  perhaps  his  income  is  larger  than  we  suppose." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  what  his  income  is,  but  he  is  always 
flush,  and  spends  a  great  deal  of  money — more  at  any  rate 
than  we  poor  devils  of  lawyers  or  lawyers'  clerks  can — but  I 
have  heard  it  hinted  that  he  could  not  do  so  if  he  did  not 
keep  the  cash  account." 

"  How  is  he  situated  there,  do  you  know  ?" 

"  Well,  I  do  not  know  exactly,  but  he  is  sort  of  head 
book-keeper  and  has  a  certain  share  of  the  profits,  I  believe, 
At  any  rate  he  has  the  power  to  draw  moneys  in  the  name 
of  the  firm,  and  perhaps  that  will  account  for  his  being  so 
well  supplied  with  the  ready,  all  the  time." 

"  Benson,  that  is  a  very  grave  accusation,  and  you  ought 
not  to  make  it  unless  you  have  substantial  reason  for  believ- 
ing it." 

"  Grave  or  not,  I  believe  it.  But  what  if  he  does  ?  It 
is  no  more  than  hundreds  do  every  day.  These  clerks  get 
ahead  of  their  salary  pretty  often." 

"Ahead  of  their  salary!  That  is,  I  suppose,  another 
name  for  embezzling." 

"  Yes,  but  I  doubt  if  you  could  make  it  a  criminal  offence 
— the  law  could  not  touch  him." 

"  Perhaps  not,  but  that  does  not  alter  the  fact  itself — it 
is  equally  dishonorable." 

"  I  presume  he  would  not  consider  it  so  ;  but  I  could  not 
help  thinking,  when  I  heard  him  telling  of  his  horses,  that 
the  money  to  pay  for  them  probably  came  from  his  employers 
Dockets  instead  of  his  own." 


TRAILING     THE     FOX.  399 

"  Do  you  candidly  believe  Randall  would  do  such  a  thing  ?" 

"  Believe  that  he  would  !  I  know  that  he  does.  Still  I 
presume  that  he  does  not  intend  they  shall  ever  know  it,  or 
be  the  losers  by  him." 

"  But  how  can  he  expect  ever  to  replace  it  ?  if  he  spends 
his  income  as  I  suppose  he  does." 

"  The  Lord  only  knows  ;  but  perhaps  he  intends  that  his 
future  bride  shall  pay  his  debts  for  him." 

"  He  may  not  get  the  one  he  expects." 

"  I  fancy  it's  a  sure  thing  or  he  wouldn't  launch  out  in 
this  way — but  it  will  be  too  bad — won't  it  though  ? — for 
him  to  get  such  a  fortune  ?" 

"  Why  are  not  you  willing  to  have  him  get  it  ?" 

"  Because  he  will  spend  it  all,  and  then  he  will  neglect 
his  wife.  It  is  a  pity  she  could  not  know  what  a  scoundrel 
Eandall  is." 

"  So  it  is  ;  if  Randall  really  is  a  rascal — but  what  do  you 
know  about  him,  besides  what  you  have  told  me  ?" 

"  Nothing  of  importance — he  drinks  freely,  but  that's  all 
a  matter  of  taste." 

"  Yes,  and  a  bad  taste  too  in  my  opinion — but  I'm  afraid, 
Benson,  you  see  all  his  faults  through  that  black  eye  he  gave 
you." 

"  That  is  not  so.  I  never  did  fancy  him  very  much,  and 
I  like  him  less  now.  Still  I  would  not  on  that  account 
attempt  to  prejudice  any  person  against  him." 

"  I  never  heard  that  he  was  intemperate.  Do  you  mean 
that  he  is  addicted  to  drink  ?" 


400       OLD     HAUN,     THE      PAWNBROKER. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  that  he  takes  a  horn  very  often,  and  as 
often  as  he  can  without  being  observed  ;  he  likes  it,  but  is 
too  cunning  to  drink  where  there  is  any  chance  of  its  being 
suspected  or  ever  heard  of  by  his  relatives." 

"  When  does  he  do  it,  then  ?" 

"  Why,  in  the  evening  mostly — then  there  is  no  danger  of 
its  being  discovered." 

"  Is  it  possible.  I  can  scarcely  believe  it.  I  did  not 
know  he  had  such  an  inclination." 

"  How  long  have  you  known  him  ?" 

"  I  used  to  meet  him  once  in  a  while  when  I  was  a  young 
boy,  but  have  seen  nothing  of  him  for  several  years  until 
quite  recently." 

"You  knew  him,  then,  before  he  went  away — was  he  all 
straight  then  1" 

"  Yes,  I  knew  nothing  against  him  particularly,  although 
I  never  liked  him  very  much — he  must  have  contracted 
these  habits  while  he  was  away." 

"Yes,  I  presume  so.  I  have  heard  him  talk  by  the  hour 
of  his  scrapes,  and  the  fun  he  had  after  he  got  away  from 
under  the  governor's  eye,  as  he  calls  his  father." 

"  Where  did  you  get  acquainted  with  him,  Benson  ?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  remember — in  one  of  the  saloons  I  believo 
among  the  boys." 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  frequent  the  saloons,  Benson." 

"No,  not  much,  although  more  than  I  intend  to  in  future. 
I  am  ashamed  of  this  eye.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  had  a 
black  eye  since  I  was  a  little  boy." 


TRAILING     THE     FOX.  401 

/ 

•      • 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  for  I  am  sure  there  can 
be  but  little  pleasure  in  getting  together  to  pass  your  time 
in  drinking — besides,  you  must  do  great  injury  to  your 
health  and  reputation." 

"  How  is  it,  Lynch,  you  never  got  into  any  of  these 
habits  ?» 

"  Well,  one  reason  is,  because  I  never  had  any  money  to 
waste — and  another,  that  I  never  had  any  inclination  for 
such  amusements." 

"  Well,  you  are  fortunate  in  being  poor,  then.  I  should 
have  been  a  good  deal  better  off  now,  if  I  had  not  had  a 
cent  but  what  I  earned." 

"  Could  not  you  resist  the  temptations  ?" 

"  No,  while  I  had  a  dollar  left — the  society  of  young 
men  like  myself  was  not  to  be  foresworn ;  but  I  must  give  it 
up  now,  whether  or  no — for  without  money,  one  does  not 
count  much  among  fast  young  men." 

"  I  should  not  wish  to.  I  see  they  have  got  the  soda- 
fountain  at  work  in  here.  Come  in  and  take  a  glass — it  if 
better  than  all  the  brandy  ever  made." 

"  Every  one  to  his  taste.  I  must  confess  I  like  a  good 
horn  of  brandy — but  it  is  rather  warm  to-day,  and  I  think  a 
glass  of  soda  will  be  agreeable  ;  but  look,  here,  Lynch,  you 
won't  mind  what  I  have  said  about  Randall.  I  would  not 
care  about  his  hearing  what  I  have  said,  for  he  is  a  devil  of 
a  fellow  when  he  gets  mad." 

"  If  I  should  ever  have  occasion  to  make  use  of  what  you 
have  said,  your  name  shall  not  be  mentioned — but  will  you 


402      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

assure  me  that  what  you  have  said  of  him  is  true,  according 
to  your  honest  opinion." 

"  Whyv  what  do  you  care  about  him  ?  You  seem  very 
much  interested." 

"  I  am  somewhat  so  ;  but  you  need  not  fear  my  getting 
you  into  trouble — come,  let  us  go  in." 

The  young  men  then  went  into  a  drug  store  near,  and 
drank  some  soda — and  then  retraced  their  steps  to  their 
offices.  Mich  reported  to  Mr.  Pierce  what  he  had  learned 
from  Benson,  which  astonished  him  very  much  ;  and  after 
listening  to  his  report,  Mr.  Pierce  remarked:  "Mich,  you 
may  rely  upon  what  I  say — that  Randall  is  an  unprincipled 
fellow,  and  he  will  get  himself  into  trouble  yet." 

"  What  do  you  propose  doing  about  it  ?" 

"  Nothing,  at  present ;  we  will  wait  and  hear  what  the 
doctor  says  ;  what  we  do,  will  depend  entirely  upon  the 
wishes  of  Miss  Hervey.  He  cannot  control  her,  of  course. 
She  is  of  age,  and  her  own  mistress,  but  I  hope  she  will  be 
advised,  and  influenced  by  the  doctor  to  wait,  at  least — even 
if  we  cannot  convince  her  that  he  is  an  unworthy  object  of 
her  esteem  and  love." 

"  He  is  as  cunning  as  a  serpent,  although  not  as  harmless 
as  a  dove,  and  it  will  require  some  exertion  to  thwart  him 
in  his  schemes,  I  can  assure  you,  sir." 

'•  That  may  be  very  true,  Mich,  but  if  he  is  the  rascal  I 
think  he  is,  he  shall  not  have  this  girl,  nor  her  property 
either,  if  I  can  prevent  it — which  I  am  determined  to  do." 

"  God  grant  you  may,"  ejaculated  Mich,  as  he  left  the 


TKAILING     THE     FOX.  403 

office,  and  resumed  the  business  which  he  had  laid  aside  in 
the  early  part  of  the  day. 

"  While  Mich  and  Benson  were  so  busily  discussing  the 
character  of  Randall,  he,  himself  was  on  his  way  up  to 
Doctor  Foster's  residence,  seated  in  a  fine  carriage,  and 
driving  a  splended  span  of  bays.  He  found  Anna  at  home, 
and  quite  willing  to  ride  with  him,  and  they  were  soon  dash- 
ing along  at  a  rapid  rate,  upon  one  of  the  principal  avenues 
leading  out  of  the  city.  They  conversed  but  little,  and  on 
indifferent  topics,  for  Randall's  attention  and  thoughts  were 
centered  upon  his  fine  horses.  He  called  upon  Anna  to 
admire  their  beauty,  grace,  and  speed ;  and  to  acknowledge 
his  taste  in  the  selection  of  an  equipage.  She  was  rather 
surprised  to  learn  that  it  was  his  own,  and  after  a  moment's 
hesitation  said  : 

"  Are  these  horses  yours,  Edward  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  bought  them  yesterday.  I  would  not  exchange 
them  for  any  span  there  is  in  this  city  to-day." 

"  They  must  be  very  valuable,  I  should  suppose.  How 
much  did  you  give  for  them  ?" 

"A  thousand -in  cash — and  I  would  not  sell  them  for 
twice  the  money." 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  horses,  are  you  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  always  was.  To  be  able  to  drive  a  span  like 
this  has  always  been  my  ambition.  Now  you  just  see  how 
neatly  I'll  pass  that  carriage  in  front  of  us." 

"  Be  careful,  Edward,  it  seems  to  be  a  spirited  horse  that 
the  gentleman  is  driving.  I  am  afraid  you  will  get  to 
racing." 


404      OLD     HATJN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Nonsense,  Anna,  I  can  distance  him  without  even  try- 
aig  the  mettle  of  my  own." 

"  With  these  words  he  pulled  the  reins  taut,  and  gave 
the  horses  the  word  as  he  reined  out  to  pass,  but  observed 
that  the  gentleman  in  front  touched  up  his  own  horse,  which 
was  a  fine  animal.  For  an  instant  they  were  neck  and 
neck,  but  the  race  was  short — Randall  glided  ahead,  leaving 
the  stranger  in  their  rear.  As  Randall  shot  past,  he  turned 
to  cast  a  sneering  glance  upon  his  competitor.  He  did  so, 
and  as  their  eyes  met,  Randall  quickly  averted  his  head,  and 
muttered  to  himself,  "  Curse  it,"  while  a  troubled  expression 
flitted  over  his  face. 

"What  is  it,  Edward  ?"  inquired  Anna. 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  Randall  replied,  in  a  hurried  and 
agitated  manner. 

"  Do  not  drive  so  fast — I  am  afraid  the  horses  will  run. 
What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  I  wish  I  had  not  driven  past  that  man." 

"  Why  ?    Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"Yes,  and  he  does  not  like  to  acknowledge  any  horse 
better  than  his  own.  I'm  afraid  I  have  offended  him." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  care  ?  Don't  look  so  surly  about 
that — you  look  really  unamiable." 

"Do  I,  that  is  nothing  strange — for  I  have  felt  so  since 
last  evening.  You  can  make  me  amiable  again,  if  you  wish 
to,"  said  Edward,  checking  the  pace  of  his  horses. 

"  Me — I  am  afraid  I  have  not  influence  over  you  sufficient 
for  that.'- 

"  Try  and  see — promise  to  marry  me  this  spring,  and  I 


TRAILING     THE     FOX.  405 

will  promise    you   shall   never   see   a   frown   oil   my  face 


"  Oh,  Edward,  do  not  refer  to  marriage  again  in  six 
months,  at  least.  If  you  cannot  be  amiable  for  the  sake  of 
winning  me,  I  am  fearful  your  promise  would  not  be  good 
for  much,  if  I  consented." 

"  Anna,  your  indifference  and  determined  opposition  to 
my  wishes  will  drive  me  to  desperation.  Why  will  you  not 
consent  ?" 

"  Why  are  you  in  such  haste  ?  I  cannot,  for  my  life, 
imagine  why  you  are  in  such  a  hurry.  I  am  contented  as  I 
am,'  Come,  Edward,  be  reasonable.  Don't  talk  of  marriage 
any  more  at  present,  let  us  change  the  subject — I  think  it 
must  be  time  we  were  returning  to  the  city.  Yes,  it  is  one 
o'clock — turn  back,  Edward.  You  know  I  told  you  I  have 
an  engagement  at  three." 

"  Your  time  is  not  right." 

"Yes  it  is,  for  my  watch  has  just  been  regulated." 

"I  see  plainly,  no  one  must  question  you  on  anything 
that  belongs  to  you.  Anna,  you  are  obstinate  ;  you  persist 
iu  this,  I  believe,  merely  for  the  sake  of  tyrannizing  over  me." 

"  It  is  not  so,  Edward,  I  am  only  firm  in  doing  what  I 
consider  right.  The  doctor  thinks  I  am  too  young  to  marry 
— and  I  feel  bound  to  comply  with  his  wishes." 

"  Anna,  you  are  your  own  mistress.  The  doctor  has  no 
authority  over  you  now,  and  you  are  not  bound  to  consider 
his  wishes  in  opposition  to  your  own  inclinations — for  I 
know  if  it  were  not  for  him  you  would  comply." 


406      OLD     HADN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Perhaps  so,  but  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  do  so — for  I  have 
promised  him  I  would  not  marry  without  his  consent,  before 
I  am  twenty;  so  if  you  want  me  you  must  first  get  that  con- 
sent." 

"  He  had  no  right  to  bind  you  by  any  such  promise." 

"  He  has  every  right,  Edward.  I  will  not  let  you  speak 
so  disrespectfully  of  him  ;  you  need  not  waste  words  about 
it,  for  I  tell  you  once  more,  and  finally,  that  I  will  not 
marry  without  his  consent — so  if  you  feel  so  sure  that  your 
reasoning  would  be  vain  to  secure  that,  you  must  wait 
patiently  until  the  the  time  arrives,  when,  according  to  his 
ideas,  I  am  old  enough  to  marry." 

"  Two  years.  Well  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  endure  it — 
but  how,  I  cannot  imagine.  But  here  we  are  home  again, 
so  good-bye,"  said  Edward,  alighting,  and  assisting  Anna 
out  of  the  carriage.  _ 

"  Come  in  and  rest  a  while,  Edward." 

"  No,  I  thank  yon,  I  must  go  back  to  the  dull  counting- 
room.  It  will  be  duller  than  ever  after  basking  in  the  sun- 
shine of  your  presence.  Oh,  Anna,  why  will  you  be  so  cruel 
and  hard-hearted  ?" 

"  Off  with  you,  and  stop  teazing — but  remember  I  shall 
expect  you  this  evening." 

"  I  shall  not  be  likely  to  forget,"  said  Edward,  as  he 
bowed  gracefully,  and  drove  away. 

The  smiles  and  pleasant  expression  vanished  immediately 
from  his  countenance,  as  he  turned  from  Anna's  sight,  and 
a  deep  and  sullen  gloom  usurped  their  place.  He  drove 


TRAILING     THE     FOX.  407 

slowly  towards  the  stable  ;  delivering  his  horses  to  the  care 
of  an  ostler,  with  some  directions  as  to  the  management  of 
them,  he  started  for  his  place  of  business — arriving  there, 
he  took  his  station  at  the  desk,  and  was  soon,  to  all  outward 
appearance,  busily  engaged,  but  his  thoughts  were  far  away. 
He  had  not  been  there  long,  when  the  senior  member  of  the 
firm  entered.  Approaching  him,  he  said  in  a  most  freezing 
manner  : 

"  Mr.  Randall,  walk  up  into  my  room,  if  you  please,  I 
wish  to  have  some  conversation  with  you." 

"  Yes,  sir,  presently,"  he  replied,  as  with  a  flushed  coun- 
tenance he  bent  over  the  ledger. 

"  Now,  if  you  please.  It  is  a  matter  that  will  admit  of 
no  delay,"  said  the  gentleman,  leaving  the  office.  Edward 
soon  followed  him  to  his  private  room  :  entering  he  said,  in 
a  bold  manner  : 

"  What  is  it,  sir  ?" 

"  Close  the  door,  if  you  please  :  there  is  a  slight  discre- 
pancy in  the  accounts  ;  here,  sir,  perhaps  you  will  be  able  to 
explain  it,"  said  he,  pointing  to  some  books  lying  open  before 
him.  Upon  glancing  at  them,  Eandall  discovered  the  check 
book  and  the  cash  book  before  him,  which  were  usually  in 
his  charge,  but  which  he  had  not  missed  from  his  desk. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  you  have  drawn  five  thousand  dollars  from 
the  bank  more  than  you  have  accounted  for  on  the  cash 
book." 

"  It  is  not  so,  sir." 


408      OLD     HATJN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Do  you  deny  it  in  the  face  of  these  books  ?" 

"  I  can  account  for  every  dollar  drawn." 

"  I  presume  you  can.  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  do 
so.  There  is  a  voucher  that  I  have  just  received  from  the 
bank.  Can  you  explain  to  me  for  what  that  check  was 
given  ?  It  is  for  one  thousand  dollars." 

"  Give  me  time,  sir,  to  look  over  the  books,  and  I  shall  be 
able  to  explain  at  once.  I  may  have  made  some  mistake." 

"  Perhaps !  Mr.  Randall,  you  need  not  attempt  to 
deceive  me  in  this  matter.  I  have  trusted  you  blindly,  on 
account  of  the  respectability  of  your  connexions,  but  my 
eyes  are  opened.  Account  to  me  instantly  for  the  moneys 
you  have  drawn,  or  I  will  send  for  an  officer." 

"  Send  for  an  officer  then,  if  you  please,  and  you  will  find 
you  cannot  touch  me.  I  have  your  authority,  in  writing,  to 
draw  moneys  whenever  I  saw  proper,  and  I  have  not  exceed- 
ed my  right." 

"  You  had  authority  to  draw  moneys  for  the  use  of  the 
firm  in  its  legitimate  business,  but  not  to  buy  fast  horses, 
sir — those  I  saw  you  driving  this  morning  will  account  for  a 
/share  of  the  deficient  sum,  I  suppose." 

"  Those  were  not  my  horses — some  I  hired  from  a  livery 
establishment." 

"  You  are  laboring  under  a  slight  mistake,  sir.  I  return- 
ed immediately  after  you  passed  me,  for  I  recognized  the 
horses  as  being  the  very  ones  that  had  been  offered  me  last 
week,  but  which  I  thought  too  expensive  for  my  means.  I 
went  to  the  person  who  had  offered  them  to  me,  and  learn- 


TRAILING     THE     FOX.  4:09 

ed,  to  my  astonishment,  that  you  had  bought  them.  Yes, 
sir,  I  say  bought  them,  and  not  only  that,  but  paid  for 
them,  too." 

"  And  whose  business  is  it  what  I  spend  my  money  for  ?" 
Randall  answered,  boldly. 

"  You  have,  undoubtedly,  a  right  to  spend  your  own 
money  as  you  please,  but  not  to  spend  mine — and  by  a 
marvellous  coincidence,  I  find  that  this  check  bears  date  on 
the  same  day  the  horses  were  purchased,  and  there  seems  to 
be  no  corresponding  entry  in  the  books." 

"  I  may  have  omitted  as  yet  to  enter  it." 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  may  have,"  answered  sarcastically, 
Randall's  employer.  "  But  I  have  no  time  to  waste  in  words. 
Since  meeting  you  on  the  road  this  morning,  I  have  made 
some  inquiries  into  your  habits,  and  find  that  you  have  lived 
at  a  rate  that  no  ordinary  salary  could  warrant.  I  have  also 
examined  our  books  of  account,  with  the  help  of  my  partner, 
and  am  very  certain  that  five  thousand  dollars  would  not 
make  us  whole  for  the  amount  you  must  have  used  for  your- 
self. This  sum  you  must  repay,  and  then,  sir,  you  are  at 
liberty  to  obtain  another  situation." 

"  If  I  have  overdrawn  my  account  I  expect  to  replace 
it." 

"  Do  it  then,  and  the  sooner  the  better." 

"  I  beg  of  you,  sir,  do  not  dismiss  me.  I  will  repay  you 
all  I  have  overdrawn,  only  give  me  time.  I  promise  you,  I 
will  not  be  guilty  of  this  again." 

"  Plainly,  sir,  we  have  no  farther  confidence  in  you,  and 

18 


4:10      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWJNJBKOKEK. 

our  business  connection  must  cease,  and  more  than  that — 
when  could  you  ever  pay  me  from  your  salary  ?  But  before 
you  are  at  liberty  you  must  make  some  arrangement  of  this 
matter.  Go  and  get  some  one  to  advance  the  sum  for  you  : 
your  father,  perhaps.  I  will  send  for  him." 

"  No,  sir.  I  beseech  of  you  do  not  let  my  father  know  it. 
He  could  not  pay  you,  and  he  must  know  nothing  of  it ;  it 
would  kill  him.  Only  wait  three  months,  and  I  will  pay 
you  every  cent  with  interest." 

"  How  do  you  expect  to  get  it,  in  that  time,  if  you  have 
nothing  now  ?" 

"  I  expect  a  large  fortune.  I  have  the  promise  of  it — 
only  wait,  and  I  will  pay  you  all :  but  if  you  expose  me, 
now,  I  shall  lose  every  chance  of  getting  it,  and  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  pay  you." 

"  What  the  d — 1  do  you  mean.  Have  you  been  speculat- 
ing with  our  funds  ?" 

"  No,  I  have  not  been  speculating  ;  but  only  believe  me. 
It  is  so.  I  did  not  intend  you  to  lose  anything  by  me,  as 
you  will  not,  if  you  will  wait,  and  not  expose  me." 

"You  must  tell  some  more  plausible  story  than  that.  I 
am,  undoubtedly,  far  behind  the  spirit  of  the  age,  as  I 
cannot  understand  how  you  expect  to  get  a  fortune  in  so 
short  a  time.  Explain  your  meaning." 

"  I  had  rather  not  ;  I  am  not  at  liberty  to.  Take  my 
word  for  it,  and  all  will  be  arranged,  as  I  have  said,  I  assure 
you." 

"  We  might  as  well  drop  that  part  of  the  subject.  If 
you  have  any  explanation  to  make,  make  it  at  once." 


TRAILING     THE     FOX.  411 

"  Well,  you  saw  that  young  lady  with  me  this  morning. 
I  am  going  to  marry  her  in  a  few  weeks,  and  as  soon  as  I 
am  married,  I  will  pay  you  with  interest." 

"  Has  she  property.     Who  is  it  ?" 

"  Miss  Hervey.  She  is  worth  more  than  a  hundred  thou- 
sand. So  you  see,  you  need  not  be  afraid  of  losing  what  I 
owe  you." 

"  Oh  !  that  is  it.  I  will  inquire  about  that.  What  is 
her  father's  name  ?" 

"  She  has  no  parents.  She  is  mistress  of  her  own  fortune, 
and  I  promise  you,  as  soon  as  I  am  married,  to  pay  you." 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  note,  payable,  in  two  nonths, 
with  interest." 

"  Yes,  I  will  do  it  now." 

"Not  too  fast,  not  too  fast.  Your  note  might  not  be 
very  current,  in  case  what  you  have  stated,  should  happen 
not  to  be  true.  I  must  make  some  inquiries  first." 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing  that  you  should — and  yo"  will  be 
satisfied  that  what  I  have  told  you  is  true." 

"  I  will  take  your  note,  and  you  remain  here  until  you 
have  paid  me.  After  that  you  must  leave.  Doling  the 
remainder  of  the  time,  I  will  take  charge  of  the  cas^  depart- 
ment myself." 

"  I  hope,  sir,  you  will  not  mention  this  to  any  on«" 

"  Not  unless  it  should  become  necessary." 

"  You  will  lose  your  money  if  you  do,  sir,  you  may  rely 
upon  it — for  I  have  nothing  to  depend  upon  bu4  ^hat  I 
expect  to  get  by  my  marriage." 


412      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Well,  to  secure  my  money,  I  will  do  as  you  wish  ;  if 
after  inquiring,  I  find  you  have  told  the  truth — where  does 
the  young  lady  live  ?" 

"  For  God's  sake,  do  not  go  to  her,  or  let  them  suspect 
anything  out  of  the  way." 

"  So  you  think  she  would  not  have  you,  if  she  knew  what 
a  rascal  you  are.  Well,  I  think  she  would  show  her  good 
sense  ;  but  that's  a  matter  I  will  not  meddle  with  ;  but  you 
must  tell  me  where  I  can  learn  the  truth  of  your  statement, 
for  I  cannot  rely  upon  your  word." 

"  Well,  she  is  the  ward  of  Doctor  Foster.  Pierce,  No. — 
Nassau  street  is  her  lawyer,  and  you  would  learn  that  this 
is  true,  by  inquiring  of  him.  But,  sir,  why  will  not  you 
believe  me  ?  I  swear  it  is  true." 

"  If  you  had  not  lied  to  me  about  those  horses.  After 
what  has  come  to  my  knowledge,  why  should  I  believe  you; 
tell  me  that.  No,  sir,  I  shall  go  and  inquire.  You  will 
please  remain  here  while  I  am  gone,"  said  he,  rising,  to  leave 
the  room. 

Randall  stopped  him,  again  beseeching  him  not  to  expose 
him — which  his  employer  promised,  and  left  the  room. 
Eandall  threw  himself  upon  a  seat,  and  fell  into  deep  study. 
He  did  not  feel  much  fear  of  being  exposed,  if  he  could  only 
keep  his  promise,  for  he  knew  that  his  employer,  from 
interested  motives,  would  probably  think  proper  to  keep 
the  affair  quiet.  But  he  did  greatly  fear  that  he  should  not 
be  able  to  persuade  Anna  to  marry  him  so  soon.  Still  the 
necessity  was  urgent,  and  it  must  be  done  in  some  way,  and 


TRAILING     THE     FOX.  413 

he  had,  therefore,  by  the  time  his  employer  returned,  decided 
to  make  the  attempt. 

"Well,  young  man,  are  you  ready  now  to  give  me -your 
note  ?"  said  the  merchant,  as  he  entered. 

"  You  found  what  I  told  you  to  be  true,  I  suppose." 

"  I  did  not  find  Mr.  Pierce,  but  a  clerk  of  his  told  me 
enough  to  convince  me  you  told  me  the  truth,  although  he 
seemed  to  doubt  Miss  Hervey's  marriage  occurring  very 
soon.  But  I  leave  that  for  you  to  arrange." 

"  Who  did  you  see  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  his  name  is  ;  a  young  man  answered 
my  inquiries.  We  will  draw  up  that  note,  sir,  and  I  will 
then  dispense  with  your  services." 

"  You  said  I  could  remain." 

"  Well,  upon  thought,  I  have  changed  my  mind — give  me 
your  note."  Randall  demurred  somewhat  to  this  change 
in  the  terms  of  the  contract,  but  seeing  no  alternative, 
reluctantly  signed  his  name.  As  soon  as  the  matter  was 
disposed  of,  he  took  his  hat  and  left,  unresolved  where  to 
go,  or  what  to  do — but  with  the  one  hope  predominant,  of 
repairing  his  fortunes  by  an  immediate  marriage. 


414:      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SETTING     THE      TRAP. 

"  HAVE  you  had  a  pleasant  ride  ?"  said  the  doctor,  as 
Anna  entered  the  library,  upon  her  return. 

"Very,  it  is  a  delightful  morning.  Are  you  at  leisure 
now,  doctor?" 

"  Entirely  so.     Anything  I  can  do  for  you,  Anna  ?" 

"  I  would  like  to  have  a  few  moments  conversation  with 
you." 

"  I  suppose  you  want  to  talk  about  Randall.  Has  he 
been  persuading  ?" 

"  Not  only  persuading,  but  teazing,  importuning.  Now, 
I  want  to  know  if  you  are  ready  and  willing  to  give  your 
consent  to  my  marriage  ?" 

"  When  does  he  want  you  to  be  married  ?" 

"  Very  soon ;  immediately  he  would  like  to  be,  and  if  you 
have  found  no  good  reason  for  delaying  it,  why  should 
we?" 

"  Anna,  you  are  too  young,  entirely  too  young  to  marry. 
I  should  not  be  willing  you  should  marry  any  one  for  a  long 
time  yet,  and  I  certainly  am  not  willing  you  should  marry 
Edward  Randall," 


SETTING     THE     TEAP.  415 

"  Do  tell  me.  Have  you  discovered  anything  to  confirm 
your  suspicions.  I  know  you  wrong  him;  but  I  am  willing 
to  wait  until  you  are  convinced  of  the  fact :  but  as  to  my 
being  too  young,  I  do  not  think  so,  although  that  is  the  only 
reason  I  can  urge  for  delay,  or  at  least,  I  give  that  as  your 
reason  for  wishing  me  to  delay." 

"  I  am  glad,  my  dear  girl,  you  are  willing  to  be  guided 
in  this  matter  by  my  wishes,  and  I  feel  assured  that  you 
will  never  regret  it,  for  although  I  have  nothing  yet  to  tell 
you  that  would  shake  your  confidence  in  his  integrity,  still 
my  opmion  is  not  changed." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that,  but  yet,  I  do  not 
fear  but  all  will  come  out  right  at  last,  although  it  is  annoy- 
ing to  me  to  be  importuned  as  I  am,  and  be  unable  to  give 
my  real  reason  for  wishing  to  delay.  I  feel  that  I  am  deal- 
ing very  ungenerously  by  him." 

"  Well,  well,  time  will  tell,  but  I  say  again,  Anna,  you 
are  too  young  to  marry." 

"  Nonsense,  doctor.  Why  half  the  women  in  the  world 
marry  before  they  are  of  my  age." 

"  I  know  they  do,  and  that  is  the  very  reason  I  want  you 
should  wait.  The  evidences  of  their  imprudence  are  con- 
stantly before  us  ;  if  it  were  not  so,  I  should  not  insist  upon 
your  waiting,  as  I  do." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  I  have  finished  my  education, 
have  plenty  of  property  to  support  us,  even  without  exer- 
tion on  Edward's  part.  So  what  is  there  to  hinder  ?" 

"  Anna,  in  all  your  studies,  have  you  ever  learned  any- 


416     OLD     IIAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

thing  of  your  own  physiology.  Have  you  not  learned  that 
until  you  have  attained  strength  and  maturity,  you  are  not 
fit  to  take  upon  yourself  the  duties  of  married  life." 

"  I  never  was  sick  a  day  in  my  life  that  I  can  remember. 
I  am  perfectly  strong  and  healthy.  Your  reasoning  might 
be  good  if  I  were  a  sickly  delicate  creature." 

"  You  do  not  know  ;  your  constitution  has  not  been  tried. 
You  might  escape  the  evil  consequences  that  fall  to  the  lot 
of  many  who  try  the  experiment,  but  you  run  a  great 
risk.  Remember  your  own  mother,  she  was  by  many  years 
too  young,  to  have  the  care  of  you,  when  you  came  tor  claim 
it,  and  although  as  yet,  by  attention  and  proper  treatment, 
you  have  not  shown  any  symptoms  of  disease,  you  cannot 
hope  to  escape  entirely,  the  punishment  nature  invariably 
inflicts  upon  those  who  infringe  her  laws.  You  are  healthy 
now,  but  you  have  not  reached  maturity  yet ;  remain  as  you 
are,  free  from  care,  and  all  calls  upon  your  strength,  for  a 
few  years,  and  you  may  never  suffer  as  the  majority  of 
women  do  in  the  present  age.  Do  you  understand  me, 
Anna  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  think  I  fully  appreciate  all  you  have  advanced. 
You  are  kind  and  considerate,  and  I  know  I  owe  my 
present  health,  and  my  freedom  from  sickness  to  your  watch- 
ful guardianship  over  me ;  and  to  prove  to  you  my  gratitude 
I  promise  you  I  will  not  speak  of  marriage  again  in  a  long 
time." 

"Anna,  you  could  not  please  me  more  than  by  doing  so; 
but  how  is  it  that  Randall  leaves  it  for  you  to  gain  my  con- 


SETTING     THE     TKAP.  417 

sent  to  your  marriage  ?  I  should  suppose  lie  would  try  him- 
self, if  he  is  so  very  anxious." 

"  He  thinks  you  are  prejudiced  against  him." 

"  Is  that  all  ?    Do  not  be  afraid  to  tell  me." 

"  Well,  no.  He  thinks  it  is  a  matter  in  which  I  am  alone 
concerned,  that  I  am  my  own  mistress,  and  can  do  as  I  like." 

"  That  is  so.  You  can  do  as  you  like,  but  I  hope  you 
will  never  choose  to  do  anything  that  is  contrary  to  what 
you  are  fully  convinced  is  right  and  proper." 

"Believe  me,  I  will  not.  Though  to  gratify  my  own 
inclinations  I  should  yield  to  his  persuasions,  perhaps,  still, 
my  judgment  tells  me  that  it  would  be  wrong  to  do  so  ;  I 
hope  you  feel  confidence  in  what  I  say." 

"  Yes,  I  do,  but  1  believe,  Anna,  that  your  firmness  will 
be  sorely  tried;  but  I  do  hope  and  trust,  that  you  will  not 
yield  to  any  solicitations." 

"  Why,  doctor,  why  do  you  think  so  ?  Any  one,  to  hear 
you,  would  suppose  you  were  afraid  I  should  be  tempted  to 
elope,  or  do  some  other  foolish  thing;  but  thank  fortune 
there  will  never  be  any  necessity  of  my  being  tested  in  such 
a  manner." 

"  Well,  well,  go  along  now,  and  get  ready  to  go  out. 
Your  friend  will  be  waiting  for  you." 

"  I  had  forgotten  all  about  my  engagement.  I  wish  I  had 
not  made  any  for  to-day.  Heigh-ho,  I  do  not  feel  in  the 
mood  for  paying  visits."  . 

"Child,  how  foolish  you  talk,  go,  the  carriage  has  been 
standing  at  the  door  this  half  hour." 


418      OLD     HA  UN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

After  Anna's  departure,  the  doctor  went  to  the  office  of 
Mr.  Pierce.  Entering,  he  accosted  him  with  : 

"  Good  day,  friend  Pierce — any  news  for  me  ?" 

"  Not  much,  but  I  think  I  have  learned  enough  to  con- 
vince you,  that  you  are  doing  right  in  withholding  your  con- 
sent to  the  marriage.  But,  doctor,  are  you  sure  that  they 
will  wait  for  your  consent  ?" 

"  I  know  that  young  scamp  would  not  wait,  if  he  could 
coax  or  wheedle  Anna  into  it ;  but  that  he  cannot  do,  so  I 
shall  rest  easy." 

"  Love  affairs  are  materially  different  from  every  other 
sort  of  affairs,  so  do  not  trust  too  much  to  your  influence 
over  the  young  lady." 

"  Why,  I  told  you,  she  had  promised  me  that  she  would 
not  marry  without  my  consent." 

"  All  very  true,  doctor,  but  she  may  not  consider  her  pro- 
mise binding  in  this  case." 

"You  do  not  know  her,  or  you  would  not  say  that:  she  is 
as  firm  as  a  rock,  when  she  has  once  made  up  her  mind  and 
given  her  word.  I  have  convinced  her  that  it  is  better  for 
her  to  wait  for  a  tune  yet,  and  she  has  promised  to  do  so, 
although,  as  yet,  she  will  not  believe  one  word  against  Ran- 
dall, and  I  thought  it  best  not  to  say  anything  more  about 
him  at  present." 

"  That  is  just  as  well;  but  I  do  not  believe  we  shall  have 
to  wait  long,  for  there  is  something  in  the  wind,  I  am  confi- 
dent." 

"  What  have  you  heard  ?" 


SETTING     THE     TKAP  419 

"  While  I  was  gone  out  of  the  office,  about  an  hour  ago, 
a  gentleman  came  in  and  inquired  for  me.  Mich  told  him 
I  was  not  in,  but  that  he  would  take  charge  of  any  business 
he  might  have.  He  said  he  had  no  business  in  particular, 
but  wished  to  inquire  where  you  lived.  Mich  told  him,  and 
then  he  inquired  whether  there  was  a  young  lady  living 
with  you  by  the  name  of  Hervey.  Whether  she  had  any 
property,  and  whether  it  was  controlled  by  herself  or  by 
you.  Mich  told  him  that  Miss  Hervey  was  of  age,  and 
controlled  it  herself." 

"  Who  was  it  ?" 

•'  Mich  said  he  had  never  met  him,  and  that  he  declined 
giving  his  name,  saying  he  would  go  immediately  to  you. 
Have  you  seen  any  one  ?" 

"  No;  I  came  directly  from  the  house.  I  may  have  pass- 
ed him.  I  wonder  who  it  can  be  ?" 

"Doctor,  I  don't  believe  he  wanted  to  see  you;  if  so,  why 
should  he  come  here  and  ask  me,  when  he  could  so  easily 
have  ascertained  your  residence,  by  looking  in  the  direc- 
tory r 

"  That's  true.     But  what  does  it  mean  ?" 

"  I  believe  it  has  something  to  do  with  this  Randall,  and 
I  mean  to  find  out  what  it  is,  too.  I  should  not  be  at  all 
surprised  if  he  was  sent  by  Randall,  to  learn  what  he  could 
about  the  property." 

"Was  that  all  he  said?" 

11  No.  He  asked  if  Miss  Hervey  was  to  be  married  soon; 
and  Mich  told  him  he  had  heard  a  report  to  that  effect,  but 
could  not  answer  for  it's  truth." 


420      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Tis  strange.  Oh,  that  Randall  is  a  rascal,  you  may 
depend  upon  it.  If  he  get's  Anna  Hervey's  money  while  I 
live,  he  will  have  to  steal  it,"  said  the  doctor,  pacing  the 
office,  in  an  excited  manner. 

"  Doctor,  don't  let  this  trouble  you,  for  if  you  feel  sure 
that  she  will  not  be  persuaded  or  coaxed  into  it,  you  have 
nothing  to  fear." 

"  Well,  good-morning.  I  must  go  home  to  dinner,"  said 
the  doctor. 

After  he  had  left  the  office,  Mr.  Pierce  called  Mich  in, 
and  told  him  that  the  doctor  had  not  seen  any  one." 

"  I  think  there  is  but  little  probability  that  he  will.  I 
do  not  believe  that  man  wanted  to  see  him.  I  wish  I  could 
find  out  who  it  was  ;  it  might  be  a  clue  to  something  which 
we  do  not  at  all  understand  now." 

"  Well,  ferret  it  out,  Mich.  I  leave  this  entirely  to  you. 
The  doctor  does  not  suspect  that  you  are  working  in  the 
matter." 

"  I  do  not  wish  he  should.  I  am  going  to  make  a  bold 
venture  this  evening.  I  am  determined  to  see  for  myself  if 
what  Benson  says  of  Randall  is  true.  I  am  going  to  the 
saloon  he  frequents,  and  as  Benson  says  he  is  there  every 
night,  I  shall  have  a  chance  to  see  him." 

"  Will  not  he  suspect  something  from  seeing  you  there  ?" 

"  No,  I  will  go  with  Benson,  and  if  possible  keep  myself 
out  of  his  sight." 

"  Very  well ;  but,  Mich,  don't  let  them  get  you  to  drink- 
ing." 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  fear  that.'' 


SETTING     THE     TRAP.  421 

"  Not  much.  But  do  not  stay  very  late,  even  for  the 
sake  of  preventing  Kandall  from  getting  a  wife.  It  is  din- 
ner time.  Are  you  going  home  now  ?" 

"  In  a  few  moments.  I  was  making  out  a  paper  which  I 
will  finish,  as  it  will  be  called  for,  probably,  before  I  get 
back." 

"  Very  well,  said  Mr.  Pierce,  as  he  left  the  office,  for 
home. 

When  Edward  Randall  left  the  warehouse,  he  went  to 
a  drinking  saloon,  and  called  for  a  glass  of  brandy,  hoping 
to  revive  his  spirits,  which  had  been  reduced  to  the  lowest 
ebb  by  the  events  of  the  day.  He  then  went  home,  and 
after  dinner,  having  made  a  very  careful  toilet,  he  strolled 
out  in  a  leisurely  manner.  He  was  in  no  haste,  for  his  plans 
were  scarcely  matured  in  his  own  mind  ;  but  one  thing  he 
had  decided  upon,  and  that  was  that  he  would  know  his 
fate  that  very  night.  His  present  situation  would  admit  of 
no  delay  in  the  accomplishment  of  his  purposes.  Having 
thought  over  all,  and  decided  upon  the  course  to  take,  he 
then  turned  his  steps  toward  Doctor  Foster's. 

He  found  Anna  looking  for  him.  After  a  few  common- 
place remarks,  the  conversation  lagged,  and  finally  ceased 
entirely  ;  both  were  silent,  but  Anna  soon  rallied,  and 
said : 

"  You  seem  low-spirited  to-night." 

"  I  could  not  well  be  otherwise,  when  I  remember  how 
soon  my  destiny  is  to  be  decided." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Edward  ?" 


422       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  I  mean  that  I  have  come  here  this  evening,  to  hear 
your  final  decision." 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to  be  reason- 
able, and  not  to  teaze  me  any  more." 

"  I  shall  not  certainly,  after  this  evening,  for  you  will 
either  leave  me  nothing  more  to  desire,  or  crush  hope 
entirely." 

"  Now,  Edward,  do  not,  I  beg  of  you,  begin  again  to 
importune  me  to  marry.  It  is  really  laughable  to  hear  you 
talk  of  crushed  hopes." 

"  Is  it  ?  It  is  no  trifling  matter  to  me.  Now,  hear  me 
patiently  once  more,  Anna,  for  this  is  the  last  time  I  shall 
approach  you  upon  the  subject." 

"  Well,  say  on.  I  will  listen,  if  that  will  be  any  gratifi- 
cation to  you  ;  only  let  me  say  in  advance,  Edward,  you 
waste  words." 

"  Anna,  you  must  promise  to  become  my  wife  within  two 
months,  otherwise  I  must  resign  you  for  ever  ;  I  cannot  live 
here  in  the  same  city  with  you,  and  be  satisfied  with  the 
very  small  share  of  your  society  that  I  am  now  allowed. 
Do  not  interrupt  me.  You  must  listen  to  me,  I  will  not  be 
denied.  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should.  You  have 
promised  to  become  my  wife.  I  claim  the  fulfillment  of  that 
promise  now.  If  you  will  not,  I  leave  you  now,  and  for- 
ever. So  choose.  If  you  love  me,  fulfill  your  promise  ;  if 
not,  say  so,  and  I  go." 

"  You  choose  to  threaten  ;  I  am  not  to  be  moved  by 
threats,  and  if  you  are  determined  to  go,  pr-ay  don't  let  con- 


SETTING     THE     TRAP.  423 

sideration  for  me  detain  you,"  said  Anna,  haughtily,  rising 
and  standing  before  Randall,  as  she  looked  calmly  into  his 
face. 

"Forgive  me,  Anna,  forgive  me,"  exclaimed  Randall, 
abashed,  as  he  started  forward,  and  seized  her  hand.  "  I 
hardly  know  what  I  am  saying.  Am  I  forgiven  ?" 

"  If  you  will  not  offend  again,"  Anna  answered,  as  she 
released  her  hand,  and  resumed  her  seat. 

"  I  must  know  my  destiny,  to-night.  Will  you  not 
relent  ?" 

"  Edward,  why  will  you  continue  to  teaze  me,  when  you 
know  it  can  avail  you  nothing.  Have  you  any  reasons  for 
hastening  our  marriage,  that  I  have  not  heard  ?" 

"  I  have  got  a  long  journey  before  me.  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  absent  myself  for  several  months  on  business.  I  cannot 
delay  it  long.  If  you  will  consent,  I  will  put  it  off  as  long  as 
I  can,  but  if  not,  if  you  will  not  go  with  me,  I  will  leave 
to-morrow.  Now,  Anna,  give  me  a  proof  of  the  love  you 
profess." 

"  I  think  I  have  given  you  proof  enough,  in  promising  to 
become  your  wife  at  some  future  day,  and  you  ought  to  be 
satisfied  with  that." 

"  I  am  not,  and  unless  you  go  with  me,  I  resign  you  for 
ever  ;  for  I  will  not  run  the  risk  of  coming  back  to  see  you 
the  bride  of  another." 

"  What  reason  have  I  given  you  for  thinking  of  such  a 
thing?  You  ought  not  even  for  a  moment,  to  entertain 
such  a  thought.  Why,  how  long  will  your  business  keep 
you  away  ?" 


4:24        OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  I  do  not  know.  It  is  a  matter  that  I  will  not  think  of. 
Marry  me,  and  I  will  return  with  you  as  soon  as  practicable ; 
refuse  to  do  so,  and  I  will  never  return." 

"  Edward,  how  unkind,  how  cruel  in  you  to  talk  in  this 
way.  You  do  it  on  purpose  to  hurt  my  feelings." 

"  Anna,  believe  me,  I  do  not.  But  it  must  be  as  I  say — 
there  is  no  alternative." 

"  No  alternative  !  Indeed  you  are  mistaken.  There  is 
no  necessity — there  can  be  none,  and  I  will  not  yield  to  so 
foolish  a  whim." 

"  It  is  not  a  whim.  Anna,  I  say  again,  your  decision  to- 
night must  be  final." 

"It  is  nothing  but  jealousy  then  that  induces  you  to 
make  this  request,  or  demand,  rather,  and  I  will  not  listen 
to  it." 

"  Anna  Hervey,  you  must  listen.  You  think  I  will  come 
here  again  to-morrow  evening,  and  the  next,  and  continue 
to  urge  you  ;  but  I  tell  you  I  shall  not.  If  you  refuse,  you 
see  me  for  the  last  time  to-night.  I  am  not  jealous,  neither 
is  it  a  whim.  It  is  a  necessity.  I  cannot,  and  will  not, 
wait  two  years,  or  one  year.  My  wife  you  shall  be,  and 
now." 

"  Edward,  you  forget  yourself.  You  astonish  me.  I  do 
not  understand  your  conduct  at  all.  You  say  you  must  go 
away  on  business,  and  if  I  will  not  go  with  you,  that  you 
will  never  come  back.  This  is  strange  language.  If  you  love 
me  so  much  that  you  cannot  endure  to  leave  me  even  for  a 
short  time,  how  will  you  endure  a  lifetime  without  me  ?" 


SETTING     THE     TRAP.  425 

"  I  shall  never  come  where  I  may  see  you.  I  can  better 
give  you  up  entirely,  than  be  tantalized  in  this  way." 

"  Edward,  I  do  not  believe  you.  If  you  really  love  me, 
you  will  return,  and  wait  patiently,  too,  until  such  time  as  I 
can  be  married." 

"  I  cannot,  neither  will  I.  You  do  not  understand  me  at 
all,  if  you  think  I  will." 

"  I  acknowledge,  I  do  not  understand  you ;  neither  do 
you  me,  if  you  hope  to  move  me  by  the  arguments  you  have 
used.  I  have  listened  patiently  to  all  you  have  said  ;  but  I 
tell  you  once  more,  that  neither  entreaties  nor  threats  of 
desertion  will  make  me  change  my  mind.  That  you  already 
know." 

"  Repeat  it,  will  you  ?  let  us  clearly  understand  each 
other,"  said  Randall,  in  a  suppressed  voice. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  marry  at  present  ;  that  is  sufficient  for 
you  to  know." 

"  You  do  not  wish  to.  Will  nothing  I  can  say  induce 
you  to  change  your  decision  ?" 

"  No.  I  have  promised  Doctor  Foster  I  will  not  marry 
until  I  am  twenty,  and  if  you  are  not  willing  to  wait,  it 
probably  will  not  grieve  you  much  to  resign  me." 

"  How  much,  or  little,  you  will  never  know,  if  you  force 
me  to  do  so.  You  have  no  good  reason  for  wishing  to 
delay,  and  you  would  not  willingly  do  so,  if  you  cared  any- 
thing at  all  for  me." 

"  Edward,  why  will  you  talk  so  ?  Why  will  you  be  so 
unreasonable?  I  have  a  good  reason.  I  would  not  ask 


426      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

yon  to  wait  if  I  did  not  know  that  I  should  be  doing  wrong 
to  yield  to  your  wishes.  Why  will  you  not  believe  me  ? 
Go  and  attend  to  the  business  that  calls  you  away,  and 
hasten  back;  we  may  be  together  so  much  of  the  time. 
Why  will  you  urge  me  ?" 

"  Anna,  why  will  you  refuse  me.  I  cannot  live  away  from 
you.  Your  only  reason  is  that  you  are  too  young — that  is  a 
foolish  one.  Do  not  urge  it  again.  You  would  never  have 
thought  of  it,  if  the  doctor  had  not  suggested  it.  He  is  old 
and  whimsical.  If  that  is  his  only  objection,  he  would 
readily  forgive  your  opposition  to  his  wishes.  Say,  is  it  not 
so  ?  If  he  would  consent,  would  you  not  go  with  me  ?" 

"  He  is  right,  I  know  he  is.  Do  not  urge  me.  Edward, 
do  not." 

"  I  must,  Anna;  I  cannot  go  without  you.  Say  you  will; 
Anna,  if  you  love  me,  say  you  will." 

"  Edward,  I  cannot,  I  cannot.  Do  not  tempt  me  to  do 
what  I  know  I  ought  not." 

"  Now  or  never.  Anna.  Will  you,  can  you  give  me  up 
for  ever  ?"  said  Edward,  as  he  placed  his  arm  about  her 
waist,  and  drew  her  toward  him. 

The  poor  girl  was  almost  driven  to  desperation  by  his 
importunities.  To  collect  her  thoughts  she  had  bent  her  head 
upon -a  table  near,  and  heeded  him  not  until  he,  thinking 
her  won,  drew  her  closer  to  him,  and  pressed  his  lips  to  her 
cheek,  saying,  in  the  most  aifectiouate  tone  of  voice, 

"Believe  me,  Anna,  I  love  you  passionately,  deeply. 
Will  you  give  up  this  love  for  a  mere  caprice  ?" 


SETTING     THE     TRAP.  427 

"  Edward,  do  not  tempt  me.  You  are  not  in  earnest  ? 
You  will  not  go  away  ?" 

"  Anna,  I  must,  unless  you  will  go  with  me;  but  you  will. 
I  cannot  resign  you.  To  sit  here  by  your  side  and  feel  your 
warm  breath  upon  my  cheek,  unfits  me  for  life  without 
you,"  said  he,  again  kissing  her  cheek. 

"Edward,  do  not  kiss  me,  do  not  caress  me.  Why  will 
you  tempt  me  ?  I  cannot  yield.  My  word  is  given." 

"  Go  without  his  consent.  What  prevents  you  ?  Go  with 
me  to-night.  Anna,  go  to  my  father's,  he  will  bind  us  to- 
gether for  ever,  and  we  need  not  be  separated  even  for  an 
hour." 

"  Stop.     Unloose  my  hand.     Take  away  your  arm." 

"  No,  I  will  not.  I  will  not  submit  to  your  prudery  any 
longer.  I  cannot  endure  it.  You  are  mine.  My  wife  you 
shall  be,  and  that  soon,"  said  he,  kissing  her  passionately, 
again  and  again. 

"  Edward,  unloose  me.  You  insult  me  by  forcing  upon 
me  your  unwelcome  caresses.  I  will  not  go  with  you." 

Starting  from  the  sofa,  with  all  the  impetuosity  of  the 
passion  which  now  fully  possessed  him,  he  said,  in  a  choking 
voice  : 

"  You  will  not  ?" 

"  No  1  You  are  beside  yourself.  You  insult  me  by  sug 
gesting,  or  wishing  me  to  marry  you  in  such  a  manner.  If 
you  respected  me,  you  would  not  do  it." 

"  Insult  you,  do  I  ?  Very  well,  I  will  not  do  so  again.  I 
will  go  away,  and  you  will  never  see  me  again,"  said  he, 
striding  towards  the  door. 


428      OLD     II  A  U  N ,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Very  well.  I  can  endure  the  separation,  if  you  can," 
said  Anna,  haughtily. 

Edward  hesitated  one  moment,  then  turned,  and  quickly 
left  the  room. 

Anna  was  astonished,  when  she  discovered  that  he  had 
really  left  the  house.  She  could  not  believe  him  in  earnest. 
She  thought  he  would  certainly  return,  and  bid  her  good 
night.  But  he  did  not,  and  she  went  to  bed  with  a  heavy 
heart.  His  singular  conduct  surprised  her.  She  could  not 
believe  that  he  would  yield  her  up  completely,  because  she 
would  not  consent  to  an  early  marriage.  There  seemed  no 
possibility  of  his  doing  such  a  thing,  and  she  concluded  he  had 
only  threatened  that,  to  make  her  yield  to  him,  and  because 
he  was  angry.  She  was  sure  he  would  make  his  appearance 
the  next  morning  as  usual.  Cheered  by  this  thought,  she 
fell  asleep. 


THE     EXPOSE.  429 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    EXPOSE. 

"  WELL,  Mich,  what  success  last  night  ?" 

"  I  succeeded  in  discovering  that  Randall  is  a  dissolute 
young  man  of  very  bad  habits." 

"  You  saw  him,  did  you  ?  What  did  you  learn  ?  Tell  me 
all  about  it." 

"  I  went  with  Benson  to  the  saloon  he  is  in  the  habit  of 
frequenting,  and  took  a  seat  in  an  obscure  corner.  I  had  to 
wait  a  long  tune  before  he  came  in,  and  then  I  quickly  saw 
there  was  something  unusual  the  matter.  Although  he  had 
evidently  been  drinking  before  he  came,  still  he  went  to  the 
bar  and  took  a  stiff  horn  of  brandy.  He  then  joined  a 
party  in  another  part  of  the  room,  who  were  smoking  and 
drinking,  and  was  soon  engaged  in  conversation  with  them. 
As  I  had  never  before  seen  him  in  such  company,  I  could 
not  judge  whether  his  manner  and  conversation  were  dif- 
ferent from  what  they  ordinarily  are,  or  not.  But  Benson 
said  he  had  never  seen  him  drink  so  hard  as  he  did  last  night. 
I  think  he  maj  have  had  some  trouble  with  Anna,  for  in 


•130       OLD      HAUN,      THE      PAWNBROKER. 

answer  to  a  remark  of  one  of  his  companions,  as  to  when 
they  should  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  spliced,  he 
uttered  an  oath  and  turned  away.  In  my  opinion,  he  was  a 
good  deal  under  the  influence  of  liquor.  It  does  not  seem 
possible  that  any  person  can  appear  so  different  at  different 
tunes.  I  hope  Doctor  Foster  will  become  acquainted  with 
his  real  character.  He  cannot  respect  any  woman,  or  he 
would  not  speak  of  the  whole  sex  as  he  did  last  night.  He 
seeks  Anna  for  the  gratification  of  avarice  and  sensuality 
alone.  He  cannot  feel  one  particle  of  genuine  affection  for 
her.  It  is  not  possible." 

"  How  is  it,  Mich,  that  she  can  have  been  so  deceived  in 
him?" 

"  Keally,  sir,  I  am  not  surprised  at  all  that  she  has  been 
so.  For  if  I  had  not  seen  him  as  I  did  last  evening,  I  should 
not  have  believed  that  he  could  have  become  what  he 
certainly  is,  a  reckless  libertine." 

"  Did  he  speak  of  Anna  ?" 

"  No,  and  Benson  remarked,  after  we  left,  that  Randall 
did  not  once  allude  to  his  pretty  sweetheart  and  her  for- 
tune." 

"  You  then  learned  nothing  particular  about  him.  Noth- 
ing of  his  intentions  ?" 

"Why,  Mr.  Pierce,  what  more  would  you  wish  to  have 
me  learn  ?  I  am  already  convinced  that  he  is  a  drunkard, 
gambler,  and  libertine.  If  that  is  not  enough  to  prevent 
auy  woman  from  uniting  herself  to  him,  I  wonder  what 
you  would  have  ?" 


THE     EXPOSE.  431 

"  Why  do  you  think  he  is  a  gambler  and  libertine  ?" 

"  It  is  evident  enough  from  his  conversation  and  actions." 

"  Poor  girl  ?  How  little  she  really  knows  of  the  man  with 
whom  she  is  to  unite  her  destiny.  But  we  must  not  allow  it." 

"Allow  it?  Mr.  Pierce,  why  don't  you  send  for  the 
doctor  and  tell  him,  so  that  he  may  prevent  it  in  time  ?" 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  need  of  haste,  Mich.  I  presume  the 
doctor  will  be  in  to-day." 

"  For  God's  sake,  don't  wait.  Unless  he  comes  in  to-day, 
I  will  go  up  and  see  him.  No,  that  would  not  do  either — 
but  we  must  not  delay." 

"  Mich,  do  not  be  so  impatient.  What  greater  necessity 
of  haste  is  there  to-day  than  has  been  any  of  the  time  ?" 

"  I  never  knew  before  what  a  rascal  he  was.  I  cannot 
rest  until  I  know  that  the  danger  is  past." 

"  Mich,  would  you  be  willing  she  should  have  him  if  he 
were  a  person  of  different  character  ?" 

"  I  could  know  of  her  marriage  with  less  pain,  if  I  knew 
he  would  make  her  happy." 

"  Oh,  then  you  do  not  care  much  about  it,  after  all.  I 
rather  suspected,  Mich,  that  you  felt  a  little  of  the  tender 
passion  for  her." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Pierce,  this  is  no  jesting  matter  with  me.  Do 
not  speak  of  it.  Care  for  her  !  My  God,  I  wish  I  did  not. 
For  years  I  have  loved  her.  I  care  not  who  knows  it.  And 
now  to  be  conscious  that  she  is  to  become  the  wife  of  one  so 
wholly  unworthy  of  her,  almost  maddens  me.  I  would — I 
can  give  her  up,  to  one  who  would  love,  protect  and  cherish 


432     OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

her,  as  I  would  do.  But  it  is  no  use.  I  do  not  expect  she 
will  ever  know  how  much,  and  how  long  I  have  loved  her, 
and  I  do  not  want  she  should,  but  I  cannot  see  her  sacri- 
ficed. No,  I  cannot.  I  will  not,"  said  Mich,  starting  from 
his  seat,  and  pacing  the  floor  in  an  agitated  manner. 

"  Forgive  me,  Mich,  I  did  not  intend  to  hurt  your  feel- 
ings. I  thought  it  was  as  I  said,  that  you  did  not  care  for 
her.  But  cheer  up,  she  may  be  your  own  yet." 

"  I  do  not  even  dream  or  hope  for  such  a  thing.  I  know 
that  cannot  be.  All  I  ask  now,  is,  that  she  does  not  marry 
one  who  will  render  her  life  miserable." 

"  Well,  Mich,  go  up  and  see  the  doctor,  if  you  would  like 
to.  Tell  him  to  come  down  here,  and  then  I  will  advise 
him  what  to  do.  You  may  depend  upon  it,  she  will  not 
hesitate  to  break  her  engagement  with  him  as  soon  as  she 
learns  how  unworthy  he  is  of  her  love." 

"  Kemember,  you  must  not  let  him  know  that  you  have 
got  your  information  through  me." 

"  No,  I  will  not."  Mich  left  the  office  at  once,  and  went 
directly  to  Doctor  Foster's  residence.  He  was  shown  into 
the  parlor,  and  as  he  stood  waiting,  Anna  came  hurriedly 
into  the  room.  Seeing  who  was  there,  a  shade  of  disap- 
pointment passed  over  her  fair  face,  as  she  said  : 

"You,  Mich.  I  thought" and  then  hesitated,  and 

seemed  embarrassed. 

"  Good  morning,  Anna.  Is  the  doctor  home  ?"  said 
Mich,  in  as  calm  a  voice  as  he  could  command — for  he  saw 
her  evident  disappointment,  and  it  pained  him  much. 


THE     EXPOSE.  433 

"  I  believe  he  is.  I  will  go  and  see,"  said  she,  and  turn- 
ed away. 

As  Mich  watched  her  retreating  figure,  a  deep  sigh 
escaped  him.  His  first  impulse  was  to  call  her  back,  and 
himself  tell  her  all — but  his  second  thought  forbade  that. 
No,  he  must  let  the  information  come  from  some  one  else. 
He  could  not  bear  to  witness  her  suffering.  He  could  not 
be  associated  always  with  so  painful  an  era  in  her  life  as 
this  must  be.  And  with  these  thoughts  he  let  her  go. 
Soon  the  doctor  entered,  hastily,  saying  : 

"  What  is  it,  Mich.     Any  bad  news ?" 

"  Mr.  Pierce  wishes  to  see  you,  sir,  upon  some  business. 
Will  you  go  down  now,  sir  ?" 

"  Don't  know  but  I  will.  Has  he  heard  anything  ?  I 
suppose  you  don't  know  what  it  is,  though.  I'll  go,  now, 
and  I  will  tell  you  about  it  as  I  go  along.  I  presume  it  is 
something  about  Randall.  Well,  well,  I  wish  it  was  off  my 
mind." 

They  started  out.  Mich  did  not  answer  the  remarks  of 
the  doctor.  He  could  not,  his  heart  was  full.  To  see 
Anna,  and  have  her  turn  away  so  indifferently  from  him, 
was  more  galling  than  anything  that  had  occurred  for  a 
long  time.  He  would  have  excused  even  that,  if  he  could 
have  known  how  troubled  and  anxious  she  had  been  all  the 
morning.  Having  heard  the  outer  door  open,  and  some 
one  enter,  she  had  supposed  it  to  be  Randall,  and  instantly 
descended  to  the  parlor,  expecting  to  meet  him,  but  what 
was  her  disappointment  to  find  that  it  was  Mich.  This, 

19 


434:      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

together  with  the  embarrassment  she  felt  at  having  betrayed 
her  feelings,  caused  her  to  tarn  so  quickly  away.  Under  no 
other  circumstances  would  she  so  abruptly  have  left  her  old 
friend. 

As  Mich  departed,  accompanied  by  the  doctor,  she  won- 
dered what  the  urgent  business  could  be,  that  had  induced 
him  to  come  at  that  time.  Could  it  be  anything  connected 
with  Randall.  Would  he  leave  her.  Should  she  never  see 
him  again  ?  In  this  manner  she  questioned  herself,  but  con- 
cluded she  was  foolish  to  imagine  he  would,  or  even  to  think 
of  his  threats.  And  then  she  felt  angry  with  him  that  he 
should  use  such  language  to  her,  and  such  means  to  induce 
her  to  comply  with  his  unreasonable  wishes.  And  deter- 
mined, when  he  came  in  the  evening,  as  she  was  sure  he 
would,  that  she  would  show  more  spirit  than  she  had  done 
the  evening  before.  She  would  give  him  to  understand 
that  she  was  not  to  be  dictated  to.  Just  as  she  had  settled 
these  weighty  matters  in  her  mind,  to  her  own  satisfaction, 
a  servant  entered  the  room,  and  handed  her  a  note  with 
the  remark,  "  The  man  waits  for  an  answer." 

Anna  tore  it  open,  and  read — 

"Anna,  once  more  I  entreat  you  to  revoke  the  decision  made  by 
you  last  night.  All  is  in  readiness  for  my  departure.  Shall  I  go  ? 
Comply  with  my  request,  and  I  remain.  Refuse,  if  you  are  willing  to 
resign  me  for  ever.  For,  by  so  doing,  you  release  yourself  from  all 
promises,  and  I  leave  you  free,  though, 

"  I  remain  ever  as  now,  your  devoted  lover, 

"  EDWARD  RANDALL." 


THE     EXPOSE.  435 

Crimsoning  with  indignation  as  she  glanced  over  its  con- 
tents, she  said  : 

"Tell  the  servant  to  wait.  I  will  take  the  answer  to 
him  myself ;"  and  seating  herself  at  her  writing-desk,  she 
wrote — 

"  MR.  RANDALL  : — I  fully  appreciate  your  kindness,  in  allowing 
me  one  more  opportunity  to  assure  you  that  I  am  now  less  than  ever 
inclined  to  yield  to  your  demands.  I  gladly  accept  the  release  you 
tender,  from  all  promise  on  my  part,  and  as  freely  exonerate  you 
from  your  engagements.  We  are  henceforth  strangers  to  ea9h  other, 

"  Yours,  etc., 

"  ANNA  HERVEY." 

Sealing  this,  she,  without  one  instant's  thought,  descended 
the  stairs,  and  giving  it  to  the  servant  in  waiting,  said  : 

"  Give  that  to  Mr.  Eandall,"  and  then  she  retraced  her 
steps  to  her  own  room.  Taking  up  the  note  she  had  received, 
she  read  it  over  and  over  again.  For  a  short  time  anger 
had  the  supremacy  in  her  mind.  But  as  that  subsided,  there 
came  the  remembrance  of  the  many  pleasant  hours  they 
had  passed  together,  which  now  were  for  ever  past  And 
then  she  regretted  the  haste  with  which  she  had  resigned 
him  for  ever.  Now,  when  that  thought  was  forced  upon  her 
mind,  she  gave  vent  to  her  feelings  in  a  flood  of  tears.  They 
were  separated — she  was  never  to  see  him  again  ;  and  the 
scalding  tears  continued  to  flow.  Heeding  nothing,  she 
sat  absorbed  in  her  own  sad  thoughts,  forgetful  of  every- 
thing else,  until  roused  by  the  entrance  of  a  servant,  who 
said  to  her  : 


436       OLD      HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Miss  Anna,  Doctor  Foster  waits  dinner  for  you." 

Anna  started  up,  saying  : 

"  Dinner  I  Tell  him  not  to  wait.  I  do  not  wish  any 
dinner.  I  do  not  feel  very  well." 

The  servant  went  and  delivered  this  message  to  the 
doctor,  who  exclaimed,  as  he  started  to  go  up  to  her  room- 
"  Sick  1  is  she  sick  ?  Just  as  I  expected." 

"  I  think  she  is  not  much  sick,  sir.  Please,  sir,  I  think 
you  had  better  not  go  up  now.  I'm  sure  she's  had  some 
bad  news,  for  there  was  a  man  brought  a  letter  here, 
this  morning,  and  she's  been  a-crying  and  taking  on  ever 
since." 

"  Humph,  that  is  it,  eh  ?  Well,  well  You  go  up  again 
and  tell  her  I  want  to  see  her.  If  she  is  not  able  to  come 
down,  I  will  come  up  there."  The  servant  did  as  directed, 
and  Anna,  upon  hearing  it,  said,  "  I  will  come  down.  Go 
and  tell  him  so.  I  will  be  down  in  a  few  moments;"  and 
then  she  rose,  and  after  bathing  her  face,  and  arranging  her 
hair  and  dress,  for  she  was  yet  in  morning  toilette,  she 
slowly  descended  to  the  dining-room.  As  she  entered,  the 
doctor  approached,  and  said,  in  an  unusually  affectionate 
manner  : 

"Are  you  sick,  Anna  1"  and  when  he  saw  the  quivering 
lip  and  tear-stained  cheek,  he  said,  gently,  as  he  seated  her 
at  table,  "  There,  there,  child.  Come,  eat  some  dinner. 
You  mustn't  fast." 

Anna  endeavored  to  do  as  bid.  But  she  saw  quickly 
that  the  doctor  understood  that  it  was  no  bodily  ailment, 


THE     EXPOSE.  4iT< 

and  bis  very  kindness  and  gentleness  made  it  the  more  dif- 
ficult for  her  to  restrain  her  tears. 

After  leaving  the  table,  the  doctor  said,  "  Come  in  the 
library  with  me,  Anna,"  and  she  mechanically  followed  him. 
Leading  her  to  a  seat,  when  they  were  once  alone,  and  with- 
out fear  of  intrusion,  he  said  : 

"  My  dear  Anna,  tell  me  what  is  the  matter.  I  have  a 
great  deal  that  I  want  to  talk  with  you  about,  but  first  let 
me  know  what  it  is  that  troubles  you." 

"  There,  read  that ;  it  will  tell  you  all,"  said  Anna,  put- 
ting KandalFs  note  into  his  hand.  He  read  it  through 
without  comment,  and  than  glancing  at  Anna's  sorrowful 
face,  said — 

"Did  you  answer  it?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  was  angry,  and  sent  an  answer  that  I  now 
regret.  But  do  you  think  he  really  will  go  ?" 

"What  was  your  answer ?" 

"  I  broke  the  engagement,  and  accepted  his  release." 

"  Well,  well,  that  is  better  than  I  had  hoped." 

"  Doctor,  why  do  you  say  that  ?" 

"  Anna,  you  will  not  wonder  at  my  saying  it,  when  you 
hear  what  I  have  to  tell  you." 

"  What  is  it  ?  Tell  me,  quick." 

"  My  dear  girl,  he  is  wholly  unworthy  of  the  affection  you 
would  bestow  upon  him." 

"  I  do  not  believe  it.  I  cannot.  He  has  acted  ungener- 
ously by  me  in  this  instance,  but  I  cannot  believe  that  he 
is  unworthy." 


438      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"Anna,  listen  to  me  patiently.  I  am  glad  you  are 
released  from  your  engagement,  and  that  you  have  done  it 
of  your  own  free  will." 

"  Oh,  I  was  angry,  or  I  would  not  have  done  it-" 

"  Would  you  have  married  him,  Anna  ?" 

"  No,  not  now.  I  don't  know  why  he  is  so  unwilling  to 
wait.  But  I  know  he  would,  if  I  had  insisted." 

"  I  can  tell  you,  Anna,  and  you  must  believe  me  now,  for 
it  is  beyond  denial.  It  may  be  humiliating  to  you,  but  it  is 
nevertheless  true.  It  is  not  yourself  but  your  fortune  that 
he  wants,  and  he  is  not  willing  to  wait.  He  is  wild,  extrava- 
gant, and  licentious.  Anna,  hear  me,  do  not  turn  away.  I 
know  what  I  say  is  true,  and  that  it  is  unpleasant  for  you 
to  be  obliged  to  listen,  and  believe  all  this,  of  one  you  have 
known  and  respected  as  you  have  him.  But  it  is  true,  and 
to  prevent  your  ever  renewing  this  engagement,  as  doubtless 
you  will  be  importuned  to  do,  you  must  fully  understand  his 
character." 

"  Tell  me  first,  where  you  get  your  information,  and  then 
I  will  decide  whether  I  will  hear  what  you  have  to  say." 

"  Anna,  one  of  your  best  friends,  at  my  suggestive  entreaty, 
has  followed  Eandall,  and  discovered  what  I  would  now  tell 
you.  It  is  Mr.  Pierce.  You  certainly  cannot  doubt  his 
truth  and  disinterestedness." 

"  Mr.  Pierce  !  Can  it  be  that  he  would  consent  to  act  as 
a  spy  upon  Edward's  conduct  ?  It  is  unkind  of  both  you 
and  him." 

"  Anna,  understand  me.     We  have  neither  of  us  acted 


THE     EXPOSE.  439 

the  part  of  a  spy.  For  your  good,  Anna,  to  secure  your 
happiness,  I  requested  Mr.  Pierce  to  learn  something  of 
Randall's  habits,  for  I  have  thought,  ever  since  his  return, 
that  they  were  not  such  as  they  ought  to  be.  He  did  so. 
We  have  not  infringed  upon  his  privacy,  for  there  was  no 
need  of  so  doing.  He  is  boldly  and  publicly  a  drunkard, 
gambler  and  libertine." 

"  Dr.  Foster,  what  do  you  mean  ?  Do  you  intend  to  say 
that  Mr.  Pierce  knows  this  from  his  own  observation  ?" 

"  He  does — as  I  understood  him.  Now,  Anna,  do  you 
regret  that  the  engagement  is  broken  ?" 

"  Not  if  this  is  true.    But  can  it  be  ?"  , 

"  Nightly  he  frequents  improper  places  of  resort,  and 
spends  his  money  in  carousing  and  gambling.     This  is  why  - 
he  is  in  such  haste  to  marry — he  wants  your  fortune  to 
squander  upon  the  gratification  of  his  low  desires.     Do  you 
not  believe  it,  now  ?" 

"  I  suppose  I  must,  but  can  it  be  true  ?  Is  it  not  possible 
you  have  been  deceived  ?  If  this  is  so,  do  you  believe  that 
he  would  be  entrusted  with  the  business  of  such  a  firm  as 
that  in  which  he  is  employed  ?" 

"  Anna,  what  reason  have  you  for  believing  that  he  is  so 
entrusted  ?" 

"He  told  me  that  it  was  on  business  for  the  house 
that  he  was  going  away,  and  important  business  too.  Now, 
doctor,  I  do  not  believe  they  would  entrust  much  to  him, 
unless  they  were  sure  of  his  integrity.  Oh,  you  must  have 
been  deceived." 


4:4:0       OLD     HAUN,     THE      PAWNBROKER. 

"  Anna,  I  doubt  the  truth  of  what  you  assert.  Several 
circumstances  have  come  to  my  knowledge  of  late,  that  agree 
to  make  me  suspicious  of  him." 

"  Doctor,  I  cannot  endure  this  suspense.  I  know  he  will 
come  again.  He  certainly  will  not  give  me  up  in  this  un- 
reasonable manner.  He  will  know  I  was  angry  when  I 
wrote  that  note.  I  feel  confident  he  will  come  again  to- 
night, and  I  must  be  prepared  to  meet  him,  which  I  cannot 
be,  if  I  remain  in  my  present  suspense.  Gc  and  see  the  firm 
of  which  he  is  a  member.  Learn  something  yourself  about 
him.  If  their  account  of  him  agrees  with  that  of  Mr.  Pierce, 
I  renounce  him  for  ever.  I  should  go  contrary  to  every 
feeling  of  my  better  nature,  even  to  think  of  him  again. 
Go,  now,  and  hasten  back.  I  cannot  rest  until  my  suspicions 
are  dispelled  or  confirmed." 

"  I  will  go,  Anna.  My  dear  girl,  do  not  excite  yourself. 
You  will  make  yourself  sick." 

"  Do  not  mind  me,  doctor,  go,  now.  Oh  !  can  it  be  that 
I  have  been  deceived,"  said  Anna,  as  she  leant  her  pale 
face  upon  her  hands. 

The  doctor  immediately  set  out.  Although  he  went  as  fast 
as  possible,  taking  advantage  of  the  stages  down,  still  he 
was  gone  a  long  time,  for  he  was  obliged  to  go  to  the 
residence  of  one  of  the  gentlemen,  after  having  been  to  the 
warehouse.  At  length  gaining  admission  to  his  presence,  he 
introduced  himself,  and  said — 

"  Have  you  a  young  man  in  your  employ  by  the  name  of 
Edward  Randall  ?" 


THE     EXPOSE.  Ml 

"  I  had,  but  he  was  dismissed  yesterday." 

"Dismissed,  did  I  understand  you,  sir." 

"  He  was  dismissed.  Allow  me  to  inquire,  sir,  whether 
you  are  particularly  interested  in  him." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  am  a  plain  spoken  man.  I  came  to  you  to 
learn  something  about  him.  Will  you  tell  me  why  he  was 
dismissed?  It  is  necessary  to  the  happiness  of  one  very 
dear  to  me,  that  I  should  know  all  you  may  be  able  to  tell 
me." 

"  I  know  but  little  about  him.  My  brother  engaged  him 
as  a  book-keeper  upon  the  best  of  recommendations.  He 
had  been  with  us  but  a  short  tune,  but  long  enough  for  us 
to  discover  that  he  was  not  suited  to  our  business." 

"Was  the  cause  of  his  dismissal  only  disqualification  for 
the  business  ?"  said  the  doctor. 

"  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  give  the  reasons,  for  my  brother 
promised  he  would  not  do  so  at  present." 

"  Is  he  not  going  away  on  business  for  you  ?" 

"  Most  certainly  not." 

"  Humph." 

"  Has  he  said  that  he  was." 

"  Yes,  sir.  He  has  made  a  communication  of  this  kind 
to  one  in  whom  I  am  peculiarly  interested." 

"  I  regret  to  say,  sir,  there  is  no  truth  in  his  statement." 

"  I  was  afraid  of  it,  but  he  has  been  engaged  to  my  ward. 
He  has  used  every  possible  inducement  to  urge  a  speedy 
marriage,  which  I  have  opposed,  because  I  hoped  to  con* 
vince  her  of  his  uuworthiness.  Now,  sir,  if  you  can  tell  me 

19* 


442        OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 

anything  about  Mm,  that  will  assist  me  in  this  matter,  you 
will  do  me  a  great  favor.  He  assured  her,  yesterday,  that 
he  was  going  away  on  business  for  the  firm,  and  would  be 
gone  a  long  time,  and  endeavored  to  persuade  her  into  an 
immediate  marriage." 

"  It  is  a  mere  fabrication  of  his  own.  And  to  convince 
you  of  the  fact,  I  will  take  upon  myself  the  responsibility  of 
telling  you  why  we  dismissed  him.  He  had  drawn  and  used 
for  his  own  purposes  five  thousand  dollars  more  than  his 
salary  entitled  him  to." 

"  Is  that  so  ?     Is  not  that  a  criminal  offence  ?" 

"  Not  in  this  instance,  for  he  had  our  authority  to  draw 
moneys.  I  suppose  your  ward  must  be  the  young  lady  he 
referred  to.  He  said  he  was  to  be  married  very  soon,  and 
that  he  then  would  repay  us,  if  my  brother  would  keep  the 
matter  secret." 

"  The  villain  !  Thank  God  I  have  discovered  this  before 
it  is  too  late." 

"  Then  it  is  not  true  that  he  is  to  be  married  soon." 

"  True  !  Do  you  suppose  I  would  let  her  marry  such  a 
rascal ?" 

"Well,  really,  I  don't  know.  Young  ladies  are  not 
always  willing  to  resign  a  handsome  lover,  even  if  they 
know  he  is  a  little  loose." 

"  The  young  lady  in  question  is  not  of  that  cast,  allow 
me  to  inform  you." 

"Well,  then,  I  suppose  we  shall  lose  our  money,  for 
-  that  was  his  only  resource." 


THE     EXPOSE.  443 

"  Wretched  villain  !  Well !  well !  I  must  go  back.  Good 
evening,  sir." 

The  doctor  retraced  his  way  home  as  fast  as  possible. 
He  found  Anna  where  he  had  left  her.  When  he  entered 
the  library,  she  raised  her  head,  and  looked  keenly  into  his 
face,  saying, 

"  Tell  me  all — quick."  Briefly,  plainly,  the  doctor  related 
to  Anna  all  that  he  had  learned.  As  he  progressed,  he  saw 
the  change  his  words  wrought  even  in  her  looks.  When  he 
commenced,  she  was  drooping,  dejected,  and  sad  ;  but  every 
sign  of  grief  and  despondency  left  her,  as  he  proceeded,  and 
when  he  ceased  speaking,  she  sat  erect  and  unmoved. 
Tearing  into  shreds  the  note  she  still  held  in  her  hand,  she 
scattered  the  pieces  upon  the  floor,  as  she  rose  and  stood 
before  the  doctor,  saying  : 

"  There,  that  is  enough.  I  am  satisfied.  Never  let  me 
hear  his  name  mentioned  again." 

"  That  is  right,  Anna,  forget  him.  Do  not  let  it  trouble 
you  for  a  moment." 

"  Trouble  me  ?  No,  indeed  ;  you  need  not  have  any 
fears  on  that  score.  My  love  has  turned  into  contempt 
for  him  who  would  deliberately  impose  upon  a  confiding, 
and  credulous  woman,  and  profess  a  love  he  never  felt. 
But  for  you  I  should  have  been  sacrificed.  How  can  I 
thank  you  ?  How  repay  you  for  all  the  misery  you  have 
saved  me  1  Oh,  doctor,  I  will  never  doubt  your  judgment 
again  ;  never  trust  to  myself  or  any  one  but  you." 


4:4:4:      OLD     UAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

"  Anna,  do  not  talk  so — this  is  but  a  cloud.  It  will  soon 
pass  away,  and  you  will  be  as  happy  as  ever." 

"  Yes,  as  happy,  but  not  as  trusting.  This  cannot  make 
me  unhappy,  for  I  cannot  even  regret  it  is  so.  I  can  only 
feel  glad  that  I  have  escaped — and  despise,  scorn,  forget 
him  for  ever." 

"Well,  well,  do  so.  You  cannot  despise  him  more  than 
he  deserves." 

"  To  convince  you  that  I  will  not  even  think  of  him,  I 
will  accept  the  invitation  for  this  evening,  which  I  had 
intended  declining.  I  will  go  and  dress.  You  will  order 
the  carriage  ?" 

"  Certainly.  I  fancy  she  won't  care  much  about  it,  after 
all.  She  only  fancied  she  loved  him,"  said  the  doctor,  to 
himself,  as  she  left  the  room. 

Anna  did  go  out,  and  was  one  of  the  gayest  of  the  gay. 
More  brilliant  than  she  had  ever  been  before.  She  was 
bantered  some  by  her  intimate  friends  upon  the  absence  of 
Eandall — but  that  was  soon  checked  by  her  dignified 
hauteur,  when  in  answer  she  disclaimed  all  knowledge  of  an 
interest  in  his  whereabouts." 

Anna  did  not  affect  all  this  gaiety,  for  she  in  reality 
did  feel  lighter  hearted  than  she  had  since  her  engagement. 
She  felt  as  though  a  heavy  burden  had  been  lifted  from  off 
her  breast.  She  was  free  again,  free  from  the  unceasing, 
annoying  importunity  with  which  Randall  had  followed  her, 
ever  since  she,  in  her  foolish  haste,  had  bound  herself  to 


THE     EXPOSE.  445 

him.  But  with  this  feeling  was  pringled  a  distrust  of  the 
real  sentiments  of  all  who  approached  her.  Flattery  that 
evening  was  met  with  a  keen  sarcasm  that  left  its  sting. 
She  was  astonished  at  the  change  in  her  feelings,  and  start- 
ed herself,  when  she  recalled  some  of  the  bitter,  scornful 
retorts  she  had  made  to  the  little,  meaningless  compliments 
that  had  been  paid  her. 


446      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBEOKER. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

HEARTS    UNITED. 

EDWARD  RANDALL  did  not  make  his  appearance  at  the 
house  of  Doctor  Foster  on  the  morning  succeeding  the 
events  recorded  in  the  last  chapter.  His  employers  looked 
for  him  in  vain,  to  fulfill  his  promise  to  them.  He  did  not 
come.  The  day  passed,  and  then  another,  and  then  many 
days,  but  nothing  could  be  learned  of  him,  and  gradually 
he  was  forgotten,  except  by  his  sorrowing  parents  and 
friends,  or  by  those  whose  interest  obliged  them  to 
remember  him. 

Time  rolled  on.  Mich  continued  his  habit  of  calling 
occasionally,  hi  a  friendly  way,  upon  Anna.  But  his  visits 
were  strictly  visits  of  friendship,  his  manner  was  always 
guarded,  and  but  for  the  intense  gaze  that  she  sometimes 
encountered,  she  could  not  have  suspected  that  any  feeling 
wanner  than  that  of  friendship  had  ever  glowed  in  his 
breast. 

He  had  succeeded  in  the  profession  which  he  had  chosen. 
His  business  prospered — the  number  of  his  clients  rapidly 


HEARTS     UNITED.  447 

augmented,  and  his  rapidly  developing  talents  gave  him 
high  rank  among  his  brethren  at  the  bar. 

Nearly  two  years  passed  away,  after  the  abrupt  depar- 
ture of  Randall,  without  material  change.  Anna  mingled 
somewhat  with  the  gay  world,  but  entire  devotion  to  amuse- 
ment and  pleasure  was  not  by  any  means  consonant  with 
her  feelings  or  principles. 

Admirers  and  suitors  thronged  around  her,  but  they 
plead  in  vain.  Her  engagement  with  Randall  was  like  a 
nightmare,  which,  when  freed  from,  she  could  but  remember 
with  a  shudder,  and  the  majority  of  those  who  approached 
her  seemed,  to  her  distrustful  heart,  like  him.  This  feeling 
grew,  until  after  a  time  she  began  unconsciously  to  look 
forward  with  pleasure  to  the  very  unfrequent  calls  of  Mich. 
She  was  herself  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  the  feeling  that 
had  sprung  up  in  her  heart  towards  him.  He  had  always 
been  kind,  although  for  a  long  time  she  had  thought  him 
less  cordial  in  his  manner  towards  her.  She  often  endea- 
vored to  establish  their  friendship  upon  the  footing  of  their 
earlier  years,  but  in  vain.  Mich  could  not  forget  himself. 
He  had  firmly  determined,  at  the  time  of  her  release  from 
Randall,  that  she  should  never  know  his  love  for  her,  until, 
by  his  own  exertions,  he  had  made  himself  equal  in  wealth 
and  social  position.  She  little  dreamed  it  was  his  own  deep 
love  for  her,  that  induced  him  to  meet  her  advances  with 
coldness,  and  that  he  dared  not  trust  himself,  lest  he  should 
be  betrayed.  He  was  satisfied  to  know  that  she  was  free, 
and  was  willing  to  wait  till  fortune  had  sufficiently  favored 


448      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

him  to  enable  him  to  make  known  his  feelings,  without  the 
fear  of  having  his  motives  misunderstood.  The  doctor 
looked  quietly  on.  He  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  the 
aspect  of  affairs  as  they  were  now,  and  did  not  desire  to 
mar,  by  attempting  to  improve  them. 

Mich  was  in  the  habit  of  coming  to  spend  an  evening, 
and  of  passing  the  tune  in  the  interchange  of  agreeable 
thoughts  and  intelligent  conversation,  occasionally  inviting 
Anna  to  attend  a  lecture  or  concert  with  him.  He  was 
polite,  attentive  to  her  minutest  wants,  but  still  there  was 
an  evident  restraint  upon  liini  which  Anna  did  not  under- 
stand, and,  in  her  ignorance  of  his  real  feelings,  she  could 
not  account  for.  She  had  always  been  in  the  habit  of  see- 
ing him  so  familiarly,  that  she  never  questioned  her  own 
heart,  as  to  her  real  feelings  towards  him.  She  was  coi> 
scious  of  feeling  increased  enjoyment  in  his  society,  and 
spoke  of  him  freely  as  her  friend,  and  often  regretted  that 
he  was  not  a  little  more  cordial,  never  suspecting  that, 
under  that  uniformly,  cairn,  and  almost  indifferent  manner, 
was  concealed  a  devoted,  disinterested,  abiding  love,  such 
as  woman  rarely  secures. 

The  evening  on  which  we  again  introduce  them,  was 
Anna's  twentieth  birth-day.  She  sat  by  the  window,  look- 
ing out  upon  the  passers-by,  when  Mich  entered  the  parlor. 
She  was  so  deeply  engaged  in  thought,  that  she  had  not 
heard  his  entrance,  and  turned  quickly,  and  with  glad 
surprise,  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  as  he  said  : 

"  Good  evening,  Anna,  I  have  come  to  congratulate  you 
upon  another  return  of  your  birth-day." 


HEARTS     UNITED.  449 

"  Oh  1  thank  you.  But,  Mich,  hereafter  you  must  forget 
how  old  I  am.  You  know  unmarried  ladies  are  not  expect- 
ed to  grow  old." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  Indeed  I  am  fearful  I  shall  not  be  able  to 
comply." 

"  Indeed,  Mich,  but  you  must.  Just  imagine  yourself 
coming  here,  with,  '  Allow  me  to  congratulate  you  upon 
your  fiftieth  birth-day.'  Oh,  you  frighten  me." 

"  If  I  might  be  allowed  to  do  so  each  year  intervening 
between  this  time  and  your  fiftieth,  I  should  consider  my- 
self a  very  fortunate  man,"  said  Mich,  with  more  significance 
than  Anna  had  ever  remarked  in  him  before.  She  was 
somewhat  surprised,  and  did  not  answer  him  immediately, 
but  when  she  did,  her  manner  was  changed  entirely  from 
the  light  trifling  tone  in  which  she  had  before  addressed 
him.  Looking  out  of  the  window,  she  said,  in  a  thoughtful 
manner  : 

"  I  wonder  where  I  shall  be  when  that  birth-day  arrives, 
if  I  live  to  see  it  ?" 

"  I  trust  not  far  from  me,"  said  Mich,  in  a  deep,  earnest 
tone.  Anna  turned  slowly,  and  looked  in  his  face.  Their 
eyes  met.  That  one  glance  betrayed  the  secret  he  had  so 
long  preserved.  Anna's  eyes  drooped  beneath  his  look,  and 
she  turned  away  to  hide  her  conscious  blush,  while  her 
heart  throbbed  wildly.  That  one  look  was  the  magic  wand 
that  had  opened  all  the  hidden  treasures  of  her  nature. 
Love,  passionate  love,  bounded  forth  to  meet  his  heart-offer- 
ins:. 


450      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

They  sat  in  silence — for  words  were  useless,  and  each 
tried  to  keep  back  the  emotions  that  came  welling  up. 
At  length  Mich  said,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  agitation  : 

"  Anna,  you  know  my  secret.  I  can  hide  it  no  longer. 
Dare  I  hope  that  my  love  is  returned  ?  Could  you  be  happy 
through  life  with  me  ?" 

"  I  could." 

"  Anna,  for  this  moment  I  have  lived,  struggled,  toiled 
through  the  years  that  are  past.  To  be  near  you  has  been 
all  I  have  desired — to  think  of  you  my  only  joy.  But  to 
be  assured,  Anna,  from  your  own  lips,  that  you  are  willing 
to  unite  your  fate  with  mine,  has  been  beyond  my  wildest 
dreams.  Do  I  understand  you  ?  Are  you  willing  to  become 
my  wife  ?" 

"  I  am." 

"  Anna,  may  I  claim  this  hand  as  my  own  ?  Will  you 
bind  yourself  irrevocably  to  me  ?  May  I,  from  this  hour, 
think  of  you  as  mine — wholly  mine  ?" 

"  Yes.  If  after  you  hear  what  I  must  tell,  you  still  wish 
to  do  so." 

"  Tell  me  nothing,  Anna.  We  know  each  others'  hearts 
as  well  as  though  every  thought  and  feeling  were  laid 
open." 

"  Injustice  to  you,  Mich,  I  must  tell  you,  but  first  let  me 
beg  of  you  not  to  judge  harshly  of  me." 

"  Anna,  do  not  fear  me,  but  if  it  is  unpleasant  to  you,  do 
not  tell  me.  I  am  willing  to  trust  you  implicitly." 

"  Hear  me,  Mich.     I  have  been  engaged,  and  my  engage- 


HEARTS     UNITED.  451 

ment  is  broken.     Are  you  willing  to  take  a  hand  that  has 
been  plighted  to  another  ?" 

"  Yes,  as  the  dearest  prize  fortune  could  offer  me,  if  there 
is  no  regret  mingled  with  the  memory  of  the  past." 

"  Regret !  Oh,  Mich,  if  you  knew  who  was  the  person, 
you  would  not  think  it  possible  for  me  to  regret  him." 

'•  Anna,  I  do  know.  Say  nothing  more  about  it.  I  feel 
confidence,  entire  confidence,  in  you.  My  affection  you  can- 
not doubt.  Yours  I  will  not,  for  I  know  you  will  be  sincere 
with  me,  that  you  would  not  give  me  your  hand  without 
feeling  for  me  the  love  I  so  much  desire." 

"  No,  I  would  not.  But,  Mich,  how  came  you  to  know 
of  that  affair  ?" 

"  Mr.  Pierce  told  me  all  about  it  at  the  time.  Anna,  did 
you  love  him  ?" 

"  I  thought  I  did.  But  I  know  now  that  it  was  a  mere 
fancy.  His  captivating  manners,  and  flattering  tongue, 
enlisted  my  admiration,  but  my  heart  he  never  reached." 

"  How  have  I  reached  it,  Anna  ?" 

"  By  your  apparent  indifference  and  coldness." 

"  I  have  never  felt  indifferent  towards  you,  Anna,  since 
the  day  I  first  saw  you.  You  have  been  dearer  to  me  than 
all  the  world  beside.  Do  you  believe  this  ?" 

"  I  believe  anything  you  say.  You  have  never  deceived 
me,  Mich,  and  it  is  not  possible  for  me  to  doubt  you.  But 
why  have  you  kept  this  so  long  to  yourself  ?" 

"  You  forget,  Anna,  that  I  began  the  world  in  humble 
circumstances.  That  before  I  could  seek  your  love,  I  must 
secure  the  wherewith  to  provide  for  you." 


452        OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBBOKEK. 

"  What  necessity  for  that,  Mich  ?  Have  not  I  an  abun- 
dance for  us  both  ?" 

"Anna,  do  you  suppose  I  would  touch  one  farthing  of 
your  fortune  ?" 

"Why  not,  pray?" 

"  The  fear  that  I  might  be  suspected  of  wooing  your  for- 
tune instead  of  you,  has  kept  me  silent  when  every  other 
restraint  would  have  failed." 

"  Mich,  you  wronged  me  by  thinking  so.  Why  should 
you  not  be  willing  to  receive  it  with  me  ?"  You  do  not 
feel  so  now  I  hope." 

"There  is  not  the  same  reason  now,  that  there  has  been 

in  times  past.     I  have  been  fortunate.     I  can  now  oifer  you 

V 
a  home  similar  to  your  own,  and  surround  you  with  the 

luxuries  which  have  become  necessary  to  you.  All  I  ask  of 
you  is  the  love  of  your  whole  heart,  and  this  hand.  Your 
fortune  you  can  dispose  of  as  you  like  ;  with  that  I  have 
nothing  to  do." 

"  You  are  foolish,  Mich.  You  must  consent  to  receive  it, 
if  you  take  me." 

"  It  can  be  settled  upon  yourself,  Anna.  But  I  have  a 
competence  without  it.  That  fortune  has  been  the  cause  of 
a  great  deal  of  crime,  contention,  and  heart-burning,  and 
rather  than  have  it  come  between  you  and  myself,  as  a 
blight  upon  our  peace  and  happiness,  I  would  sooner, 
much  sooner,  see  it  given  up  entirely.  I  wish,  for  my  own 
part,  that  you  had  nothing — that  you  depended  upon  mt  for 
every  necessary,  as  well  as  comfort,  of  life.  Then  bj  «uy 


HEARTS     UNITED.  4:53 

devotion  I  could  prove  to  the  world  that  my  love  has  been 
disinterested." 

"  I  need  no  such  proof,  Mich,  and  would  prefer  that  it 
should  all  be  yours,  for  I  know  it  must  be  a  blessed  feeling, 
to  be  cared  for,  and  to  depend  solely  upon  the  one  we 
love." 

"  Anna,  when  will  you  grant  me  this  privilege  of  caring 
for  you  solely  ?" 

"  Whenever  you  desire  it." 

"  Anna,  I  thank  you  for  your  readiness  to  comply  with 
my  wishes." 

"  Why  should  I  affect  a  reluctance  I  do  not  feel  ?  There 
is  no  reason  why  we  should  delay,  and  I  will  not  pretend 
to  any.  If  the  doctor  has  no  objection,  I  have  none. 

"  Where  is  the  doctor  ?     I  will  have  it  settled  now." 

"  I  hear  his  step  in  the  hall.  He  is  coming  here.  Yes, 
there  he  is,"  said  Anna,  as  she  rose  from  her  seat. 

The  doctor  entered  the  parlor,  but  as  it  had  become 
quite  dark,  he  could  not  distinguish  any  one  in  the  room, 
and  was  about  to  turn  away,  when  Mich  said  : 

"  Good-evening,  doctor." 

"  Mich,  is  it  you  ?  Anna,  are  you  here  in  the  dark, 
too  ?" 

"  Yes — come  in,  doctor,  and  I  will  ring  for  a  light,"  said 
Anna,  immediately  doing  so. 

"  What  are  you  sitting  in  the  dark  for  ?  Rather,  suspi- 
cious." 

"  Not  at  all  so,  doctor.  Anna  and  I  have  been  very  much 


454       OLD      HAUN,      THE      PAWNBKOKEK. 

engaged  in  conversation,  and  have  not  required  any  light 
stronger  than  twilight/' 

"  Twilight,  I  should  call  it  dark.  I  like  to  see  people's 
faces  when  I  talk  to  them." 

"  Well,  you  have  an  opportunity  now,  as  the  light  has 
come,  and  as  I  have  a  request  to  make,  I  hope  you  will 
look  favorably  upon  me." 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  Mich  ?"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  glanced 
quickly  from  one  to  the  other.  But  Anna  sat  attentively 
examining  a  book,  and  to  all  appearance,  was  not  at  all 
interested  in  the  conversation  between  the  gentlemen. 

"It  is  simply  this.  I  want  your  consent  to  Anna's 
marriage  with  myself." 

"  Well,  well,  this  is  a  surprise.  Consent  ?  God  bless  you 
both.  I  have  been  waiting  as  patiently  as  I  could  this  long 
time  for  a  chance  to  give  my  consent." 

"  Then  we  have  ^cur  approval  of  our  immediate  marriage, 
sir?"  . 

"  Just  as  quick  as  you  have  a  mind  to.  I  am  getting 
old,  Mich,  and  shall  be  happier  when  I  see  her  under  your 
special  care  and  protection,  for  it  would  trouble  my  last 
moments  to  leave  her  unprotected." 

"  I  trust,  sir,  you  may  live  many  years  yet,  to  witness 
our  happiness,  and  to  aid  us  by  your  counsel." 

"  Well,  well,  I  can  trust  her  to  you.  Anna,  my  dear 
child,  is  this  as  you  wish  it  ?" 

"  It  is,  sir." 

"  So  you  have  promised  to  be  Mich's  wife.     I  knew  it 


HEAKTS     UNITED.  455 

would  come  to  this,  child.  I  knew  you  were  destined  for 
each  other,  and  thank  God  it  is  so,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he 
laid  his  hand  upon  Anna's  bowed  head. 

No  moment  in  Anna's  past  life  had  ever  been  so  crowded 
with  emotion  as  this.  Long  years  had  passed  since  the 
hand  of  that  revered  friend  had  thus  rested  upon  her  head, 
and  that  touch  brought  back  the  memories  of  the  past, 
which,  mingling  with  the  present  joy,  started  the  unbidden 
tear.  For  a  moment  all  were  silent,  then  the  doctor  said, 
in  a  tender  voice  : 

"  Anna,  child,  when  will  you  leave  me  ?" 

"  Leave  you  ?  Never.  Mich  has  not  asked  me  to  leave 
you." 

"  Your  marriage  must  necessarily  separate  us,  Anna," 
said  he,  sadly. 

Mich  approached  them,  saying,  "  Doctor,  you  have 
been  to  Anna  a  father,  and  to  me  a  friend  ;  and  do  you 
suspect  that  either  she  or  I  would  wish  to  be  separated  from 
you  ?" 

"  I  am  getting  old  and  infirm,  Mich,  and  cannot  be  of 
service  to  either  of  you." 

"  Oh,  doctor,  do  not  talk  so,  for  unless  you  consent  to 
remain  with  me,  as  you  have  always  done,  I  will  not  be 
married,"  said  Anna,  energetically. 

'  Well,  well,  child.  We  will  talk  of  this  another  tune. 
I  will  not  be  the  cause  of  any  delay.  You  must  not.  No, 
indeed,  it  will  be  one  of  the  happiest  moments  in  my  life, 
when  I  see  you  and  Mich  married ;  So  arrange  your  plans, 


456      OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

and  whatever  they  are,  I  shall  thiiik  them  good.  Good- 
night. Good-night,  Mich,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  turned 
and  left  the  room. 

' '  Anna,  there  is  nothing  now  wanting  to  secure  our  hap- 
piness but  the  blessing  of  the  clergyman,  and  that  I  hope 
to  hear  pronounced  very  soon." 

"  Do  you  think,  Mich,  that  the  doctor  would  refuse  to 
live  with  us  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  think  it  possible.  Anna,  will  you  appoint 
a  time  for  our  marriage  !  Any  arrangements  we  have  to 
make  can  be  completed  in  a  very  short  tune.  Name  an 
early  day,  Anna." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know — what  time  will  be  best  ?  Have 
you  any  choice  ?  If  you  have,  name  it." 

"  Will  four  weeks  be  long  enough  for  you  to  make  all 
desired  preparations  !  I  do  not  wish  to  hurry  you,  Anna. 
You  know  best  how  much  time  you  will  require,  but  I  hope 
you  will  be  ready  as  soon  as  that." 

"  That  would  be  considered  by  most  ladies  a  very  short 
time  to  prepare  to  be  married,  but  as  I  do  not  wish  to 
create  a  sensation,  I  presume  it  will  be  sufficient  for  me." 

"  To  consult  my  own  taste  and  feelings,  Anna,  I 'would 
much  prefer  that  we  be  married  quietly,  instead  of  creating 
a  sensation,  as  you  say." 

"  I  think  we  shall  agree  exactly  about  that,  Mich.  Let 
us  be  married  in  church,  and  then  make  a  short  tour." 

"  That  will  be  pleasant;  but,  Anna,  I  really  must  bid  you 
good-night.  How  fast  the  hours  glide  by  when  I  am  near 


HEARTS     UNITED.  457 

yon.  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  all  I  have  heard  to-night 
is  reality.  Yon,  Anna,  who  I  have  loved  so  long,  are  soon 
to  be  ray  wife.  Yon  do  love  me.  Is  it  so  ?  Assure  me." 

"  It  is  true — bnt  do  not  go.     It  cannot  be  late." 

"  It  is  near  midnight,  Anna,  I  must.  But  I  will  see  you 
early  to-morrow.  Good-night,"  said  he,  and  turned  and  left 
the  parlor.  Anna  followed  him  into  the  hall.  Again  he  / 
turned  to  say  good-night,  and  press  that  soft  hand  that  was 
placed  so  confidingly  in  his,  when  Anna  whispered,  "  Come 
early  to-morrow."  For  one  instant  he  gazed  into  her  face, 
then  drawing  her  towards  him,  their  lips  met  in  one  long 
kiss  of  love.  Instantly  releasing  her  from  his  embrace,  he 
whispered  again.  "  Good-night,"  and  left  the  house. 

Anna  was  too  happy  readily  to  go  to  sleep.  She  recalled 
now  many  incidents  which  contributed  to  convince  her  of 
Mich's  affection,  and  wondered  that  she  should  have  been 
so  blind,  as  never  to  have  remarked  then!  before  ;  and  now  * 
she  understood  why  his  seeming  indifference  had  so  often 
wounded  her  feelings — because  she  loved  him.  How  blank 
the  world  would  be  without  him.  How  unsupportable  life 
away  from  him.  To  be  near  him,  was  happiness;  to  hear 
his  deep,  earnest  voice  pronounce  her  name,  was  music  in 
her  ear.  Oh,  how  long  the  hours  would  seem  while  he  was 
away.  Thus  she  thought,  till  sleep  came  with  its  rosy 
dreams. 

With  the  next  day  commenced  preparations  for  her  mar- 
riage. Smoothly,  and  quietly  all  progressed,  and  by  the 
time  appointed  all  was  in  readiness. 

20 


458       OLD     HAUN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

Upon  a  bright  and  beautiful  morning  towards  the  last  01 
the  month  of  May,  they,  with  a  select  party  of  friends, 
repaired  to  Old  Trinity  Church  and  were  married.  The 
doctor  gave  away  the  beautiful  bride.  Happier  hearts  than 
those  of  Mich  and  his  bride  never  beat  in  human  breasts. 
Eeturning  for  a  short  time  to  her  residence,  they  received 
the  congratulations  of  their  friends,  and  then  set  out  upon 
an  excursion,  which  kept  them  absent  from  the  city  for  most 
of  the  season.  In  the  heat  of  summer,  they  were  joined 
at  the  White  Mountains  by  a  large  party  of  their  friends, 
among  whom  were  the  doctor,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pierce,  and 
Mrs.  Lynch.  There  they  remained  for  several  weeks. 
Then  returning  to  the  city,  they  established  themselves  in 
the  beautiful  home  which  Mich  had  provided.  The  doctor 
and  Mrs.  Lynch  soon  became  domesticated  there,  and  there 
they  remained. 

A  large  share  of  Anna's  time  was  devoted  to  benevolent 
purposes.  Many  destitute  emigrants  landing  upon  these 
shores,  were  provided  with  the  comforts  which  they  so  much 
needed,  out  of  the  income  of  that  fortune  which  had  been 
coveted  by  so  many,  and  many  a  darkened  home  was  light- 
ened, and  the  clouds  for  ever  dispelled,  by  her  timely  pre- 
sence and  assistance. 

But  there  is  truth  in  the  words,  that  riches  take  to  them- 
selves wings  and  flee  away.  A  few  years  after  the  marriage 
of  Anna,  the  bulk  of  her  fortune  was  entirely  lost  by  a  des- 
tructive fire  which  occurred  hi  New  Orleans,  the  insur- 
ance, by  the  neglect  of  her  agent,  having  been  allowed  to 


HEARTS     UNITED.  459 

expire.  So  that  there  remained  to  her  but  little  of  the 
large  estate  which  she  once  possessed.  This  misfortune  did 
not  in  the  least  affect  her  personal  comfort,  for  Mich,  by 
his  talents,  energy,  and  strict  attention  to  his  professional 
duties,  found  fortune  showering  her  golden  favors  upon 
him. 

There  may  be  those  still  living,  who  will  recognize  under 
the  disguise  with  which,  in  this  history,  we  have  clothed 
Mich  Lynch,  the  character  of  one  who,  years  since,  main- 
tained a  high  reputation  as  an  able  advocate  at  the  New 
York  Bar. 


460     OLD     HAUN,      THE     PAWNBROKER. 


CONCLUSION. 

A  FEW  years  after  the  death  of  Haun,  the  old  building 
that  had  been  his  shop  was  torn  down  for  the  purpose  of 
perfecting  some  public  improvements,  and  under  the  floor  of 
the  same  was  discovered  a  vault  in  which  he  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  depositing  his  valuables.  It  communicated  with 
his  store  by  means  of  a  trap-door.  Reference  has  been  made 
to  it  in  the  preceding  pages.  On  examination,  this  was 
found  to  be  nearly  empty,  with  the  exception  of  a  package 
of  old  letters,  which  were  enveloped  in  a  newspaper,  and 
carefully  laid  away.  They  were  somewhat  injured  by  age 
and  dampness,  but  were  still  legible.  From  them  it  was 
learned  that  he  was  an  Englishman  by  birth,  but  had  left 
his  native  country  when  a  young  man — for  the  correspon- 
dence extended  through  many  years.  It  was  mostly  from 
one  person,  some  friend,  or  possibly  a  relative,  who  knew  all 
the  secrets  of  Haun's  past  life. 

That  his  name  was  assumed,  was  evident,  from  many 
things  referred  to  in  the  letters.  But  what  his  real  name 
was  could  not  be  discovered. 

From  their  contents  it  would  seem  that  he  had  formerly 


CONCLUSION.  461 

held  some  place  under  government,  but  having  been  detect- 
ed in  the  commission  of  a  forgery,  had  been  obliged  to  flee, 
in  order  that  he  might  escape  conviction,  upon  the  charge 
of  having  committed  a  capital  offence. 

After  leaving  England  he  had  wandered  over  Europe  for 
many  years,  and  finally  came  to  America,  and  settled  in  the 
city  of  New  York. 

He  had  brought  considerable  money  with  him,  with 
which  he  commenced  the  business  of  a  pawnbroker — as  his 
ostensible  occupation,  although  his  knowledge  of  the 
criminality  of  any  transaction,  seldom  interfered  to  prevent 
his  turning  an  honest  penny  by  engaging  in  it  when  oppor- 
tunity offered. 

What  a  contrast  between  the  life  of  Haun  and  that  of 
Dr.  Foster,  and,  although,  both  had  gone  through  the  world 
alone,  contrary  to  all  the  laws  both  of  nature  and  revela- 
tion, still,  look  upon  the  labor  of  their  lives.  Haun's  we 
have  shown.  Glimpses  of  the  doctor's  life  we  have  seen  in 
the  foregoing  history.  But  the  world  will  never  know  his 
constant  and  unwearied  attention  to  the  wants  of  the  desti- 
tute and  suffering. 

He  was  not  one  of  those  who  let  his  right  hand  know 
what  his  left  hand  doeth.  And,  although,  he  has  been  long 
since  gathered  to  his  Father's  Mansions,  yet,  there  are 
many  still  living,  who  were  witnesses  of  his  self-denying, 
and  his  self-sacrificing  spirit  while  amongst  us.  He  was 
affectionate  in  his  nature,  as  his  conduct  to  Anna  has  shown ; 
and  he  was  well  repaid,  in  her  devotedness  and  gentleness, 


4:62     OLD     HAtJN,     THE     PAWNBROKER. 

when  infirmity  and  age  made  him  dependant,  for  social 
enjoyment,  upon  the  kindness  and  attentions  of  others. 
Unlike  Haun,  whose  grave  is  unmarked  and  his  memory 
unhonored,  a  beautiful  monument  rears  its  tapering  column 
to  mark  the  spot  where  all  that  was  mortal  of  the  kind- 
hearted,  generous  old  man  was  laid.  And  his  memory  is 
treasured,  and  his  virtues  told,  even  now,  to  the  descendants 
of  those  who  were  the  recipients  of  his  love  and  care.  May 
he  rest  in  peace. 

Of  Edward  Randall,  little  was  ever  afterwards  known. 
His  father  resigned  his  pastoral  charge,  and  having  secured 
a  small  parish  in  a  remote  country  town,  left  the  city,  with 
his  family,  soon  after  the  disgraceful  conduct  of  his  son 
came  to  his  knowledge.  Anna  had  no  communication  with 
them  after  that  time.  Consequently  she  never  heard  of 
Randall  directly,  although  Mich  was  informed  by  a  sailor, 
whom  he  several  years  afterwards  accidentally  met,  that 
Randall  was  living  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  engaged 
in  some  kind  of  traffic  with  the  natives,  but  no  more  parti- 
cular information  could  be  obtained  in  relation  to  him,  and 
as  he  never  made  his  appearance,  the  obligation  which  he 
had  executed  to  his  employers,  remained  uncancelled,  and 
probably  does  to  this  day. 

Of  other  persons  who  may  have  casually  appeared  in  the 
pages  of  this  story,  we  have  but  little  to  record.  Doctor 
Marsh,  Mich's  first  employer,  married  a  daughter  of  one  of 
the  merchant  princes  of  New  York,  and  thus  secured  to 
himself  a  fortune  which  enabled  him  to  pass  his  days  iu 


CONCLUSION.  463 

luxurious  indolence.     He  gradually  withdrew  from  profes- 
sional duties,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  pleasures  of  life. 

The  time  has  now  arrived  when  we  must  drop  the  curtain 
upon  the  scenes  of  the  long  past,  which  we  have  intended 
faithfully  to  portray.  Undoubtedly,  by  drawing  more  upon 
the  imagination  we  might  have  added  to  the  interest  of  the 
preceding  pages.  But  instead  of  this  we  have  preferred  to 
tell  a  plain,  unvarnished  tale — a  simple  statement  of  facts 
occurring  in  every-day  life — which  we  trust  has  not  been 
entirely  without  interest  to  the  reader. 


THE      END 


THE  COTTAGE 


Cnntortj  Sknlt 


BY    EMILY    THOKNWELL. 


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A  quaint  title,  dear  reader,  is  it  not  ?  Yet  one  that  will  answer  well 
to  introduce  to  the  public  in  book  form  a  Beries  of  graphic  delineations 
which  have  at  irregular  intervals  enlivened  the  columns  of  one  of  the 
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and  sprightliness,  the  faithfulness  with  which  the  writer  has  sketched 
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tact during  his  daily  rambles,  and  also  for  the  excellent  moral  tone 
which  pervades  them  throughout.  They  convey  many  an  earnest 
lesson  in  life,  even  while  causing  the  reader  to  shake  his  sides  at  the 
ludicrousness  of  the  picture  drawn. 

His  happy  manner  of  hitting  off  the  foibles,  holding  up  to  contempt 
the  vices,  and  enlisting  the  better  feelings  in  favor  of  the  often  unde- 
served miseries  of  those  in  the  lower  walks  of  city  life,  have  made 
"Invisible"  hosts  of  friends  in  all  parts  of  the  country;  and  their 
number  has  been  largely  increased  by  the  frequency  with  which  his 
shorter  sketches  have  "gone  the  rounds  of  the  press." 

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THE   MEMOIRS 

OF 

REV.  SPENCER  H.  CONE,  D.D., 

A  BAPTIST  PREACHER  IN  AMERICA 
(PREPARED  BY  HIS  SONS.) 

DR.  CONE,  lite  Pastor  of  the  First  Baptist  Church,  city  of  New  York, 
was  President  of  the  AMERICAN  BIBLE  UNION,  correspondent  and  friend 
jf  ADONTRAM  JUDSON,  the  eminent  missionary,  and  one  of  the  most  re- 
laarkable  men  of  the  present  age. 

The  Bible  Union  Quarterly  thus  speaks  of  him — 

"  Whose  heart  is  not  heavy  with  the  swelling  emotions  of  sorrow,  aa 
he  seeks  in  vain  in  his  wonted  place  for  that  beloved  form,  whose  very 
presence  in  our  meetings  was  a  strength  and  a  joy ;  and  the  thought 
rises  that  he  shall  'see  his  face  no  more,1  no  more  hear  that  familiar 
voice  which  ever  rung  like  a  clarion-peal  in  defence  and  advocacy  of 
the  highest  and  holiest  truth,  and  in  cheer  and  encouragement  to  its 
faithful  friends,  and  whose  very  name  was  a  guaranty  of  success  to 
every  enterprise  and  principle  to  which  he  gave  his  heart  and  soul 
May  God  have  mercy  on  the  man  who  can  cherish  aught  but  honor, 
tove,  and  gratitude  for  the  character  and  services  of  SPENCER  H.  COXE.' 

The  New  York  Chronicle  in  announcing  this  work  in  press,  says — 
"  As  this  work  has  been  prepared  under  the  immediate  inspection  of 
the  family  of  Dr.  CONE,  there  is  every  reason  to  suppose  that  it  will  be 
a  complete,  accurate,  and  in  every  way  reliable  memoir  of  our  lamented 
orother,  and  we  believe  all  of  our  readers  will  wish  to  possess  it." 

DB.  CONE'S  life  was  full  of  romance  and  incident,  as  well  as  a  bright 
example  of  Christian  virtues ;  and  the  volume  is  one  which  should  find 
a  welcome  at  every  fireside,  and  a  place  in  every  family  library. 

480  pages  12mo,  Bound  in  Muslin,  Printed  on  fine  White  Paper, 
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Among  the  numerous  testimonials  from  the  press  hi  all  sections  af 
the  country,  we  select  the  following,  proving  that  the  author's  produc- 
tions will  be  sought  for  and  read  by  thousands  of  admirers. 

NOTICES  OF  THE  PRESS. 

"  A  humorist  and  a  satirist  of  a  very  high  order.  His  blows  are  aimed  with 
levere  accuracy  against  a  vast  number  of  the  follies,  frailties,  and  humbugs  of 
the  day." — Baltimore  American,  Md. 

"  He  shows  up  many  of  the  modern  popular  humbugs  In  a  very  strong  light,  and 
handles  them  most  unmercifully." — Dayton  {Ohio)  Daily  Empire. 

"  Doesticks  is  a  wonder.  The  same  happy  spirit  seems  to  pervade  the  author 
fcnd  the  artist — tho  illustrations  of  the  latter  are  quite  up  to  anything  Cruikshank 
ever  achieved  in  the  same  line.  If  anybody  can  look  at  these  spiritings  of  the 
pencil  without  a  loud  laugh,  he  is  certainly  out  of  our  list  of  even  grand  fellows— 
but  to  enter  fully  into  the  pleasing  features  of  the  work — to  laugh  over  the  jokes, 
to  enjoy  the  home-thrusts  of  wit  and  satire,  our  friends  must  buy  the  book  itself." 
—Sunday  Mercury,  N.  Y. 

"  Doesticks  is  one  of  the  few  immortal  names  that  were  not  born  to  die.  Doe- 
sticks  will  always  be  with  us.  We  have  only  to  step  into  our  library,  and  behold 
there  is  the  ubiquitous  Doesticks  I  We  take  him  by  the  hand — we  listen  to  the 
thoughts  that  breathe— the  quaint  philosophy — the  piquant  illustration  I  Doesticks 
all  over — Doesticks  in  every  page — in  every  line  I  Do  you  wish  to  make  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Doesticks?  Every  body  does." — New  Yor^  Railway  Journal. 

"  The  illustrations  are  in  admirable  keeping  with  the  general  tone  of  these  '  un- 
precedented extravagances,'  and  will  help  to  introduce  Doesticks  and  his  com- 
panions to  a  large  circle  of  acquaintances." — McMakin's  Philadelphia  Saturday 
Courier. 

"^Doestlcks'  is  irresistibly  funny."— P.  T.  Barnum's  Letter  to  the  If.  Y. 
Pribune. 

"  Renown  has  made  the  euphonious  name  of  '  Doesticks'  familiar  to  the  ear  of 
11  the  reading  public  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land.  Those  who 
,-ould  eschew  the  blues,  and  drive  dull  care  away,  should  read  Doesticks — what 
.•»  says." — Lansingburg  Gazette,  N.  Y. 

41  The  '  Doesticks'  book  is  before  us.  Its  Inimitable  fun  sticks  to  us  long  after 
»  v  have  shut  the  book — its  rollicking  humor  comes  back  to  us  in  gusts." — Boston 
Cttronicle. 

"  Doesticks  is  an  original  genius.  His  book  is  just  the  thing  to  pick  up  at  odd 
moments,  when  time  hangs  heavy,  and  the  mind  seeks  to  be  amused."— Gazette 
and  Democrat,  Reading,  Pa. 

"  The  essays  of  the  rich,  racy,  humorous,  and  original  Doesticks  will  be  read 
by  thousands." — New  Orleans  Bee. 

"  Doesticks'  fun  is  not  of  the  artificial,  spasmodic  order,  it  arises  from  a  keen 
perception  of  the  humorous  side  of  things." — New  York  Tribune. 

"  His  blows  at  humbug  are  trenchant,  and  his  sympathies  are  ever  with  hu- 
manity."— Boston  Evening  Gazette. 

"  DoesScks  comes  to  us  like  a  full  and  sparkling  goblet,  overflowing  with  th« 
rich  and  brilliant  savings  of  an  original  mind.  If  you  would  drive  away  the  '  Blue 
Devils,'  purchase  Doesticks,  and  every  sketch  you  read  will  be  better  than  any 
pill  for  the  indigestion." — The  Uncle  Samuel,  Boston. 

"  What  Cruikshanks,  Leech,  or  Gavarni  does  with  the  pencil,  he  accomplishei 
«rith  the  pen." — The  N.  Y.  Dutchman. 

"  The  author  is  a  humorist  and  a  satirist  of  a  very  high  order.  His  blows  are 
limed  with  severe  accuracy  against  a  vast  number  of  the  follies,  frailties,  and 
tatnbugs  of  ttie  day," — Americanand  Commercial  Advertiser,  Baltimore,  Md. 

RUDD  &  CARLETON,  Publishers, 

310  BROADWAY,  NEW  YORK. 


A  BOOK  THAT  WILL  MAKE  ITS  MARK! 


The  undersigned  have  the  satisfaction  of  announcing  to  the  Public 
and  the  Trade  that  they  have  just  published  an  original  work  of 
fiction  of  unusual  interest  and  merit,  by  an  American  author, 
entitled, 


ASPENWOLD. 

The  claims  of  this  work  to  a  high  place  in  the  front  rank  of  our  na- 
tional literature  will  be  admitted  by  every  reader  whose  critical  abilities 
enable  him  to  appreciate  authorial  excellence. 

It  is  written  in  the  form  of  an  autobiography,  like  the  works  of  MAB- 
BTATT,  and  will  favorably  compare  with  the  best  of  that  popular  writer's 
productions. 

It  is  free  from  the  hackneyed  incidents  which  comprise  the  principal 
gtock  in  trade  of  mast  of  our  modern  novelists,  and  is  emphatically 


IOOCXK. 


in  the  ripest  sense  of  that  much-abused  term. 

For  its  strength  and  naturalness  of  description,  the  reader  will  be 
reminded  of  COOPER;  in  the  flowing  style  of  its  narrative,  of  MAKBYAT; 
in  the  earnestness  of  its  thought  and  diction,  of  CUKREB  BELL  ;  and  in 
the  completeness  of  its  characters,  of  CHAKLES  DICKENS. 

The  power  and  originality  of  the  work  will  ensure  it  a  wide  sale,  and 
secure  a  popularity  for  its  author  enjoyed  by  few. 

Embellished  with  a  beautiful  Frontispiece, 
408  Pages,  12  mo.  Cloth,  Price  $1  25. 

RUDD  &  CARLETON,  Publishers, 

310  BROADWAY,  NEW  YOBK. 


A  BOOK  FKOM   "DOESTICKS." 

THK  GREAT  AMERICAN  WIT  AND  HUMORIST  ! 

BY   Q.  K.   PHILANDER   DOESTICKS,  P.B. 

Fully  Illustrated  Try  the  most  eminent  Artists,  12w0.,  bound  in  muslin, 
gilt  extra,  $1. 

12,773  copies  of  this  remarkable  book,  were  sold  in  five  days  following 
the  day  of  publication ;  and  from  every  part  of  the  country  the  demand 
still  continues. 


lie 


This  volume,  abounding  in  mirth-provoking  sketches  of  persons  and  places,  filled  with 
humor,  wit,  and  satire,  convulses  the  reader  with  laughter  from  the  title-page  to  the  close 
In  the  language  of  an  eminent  journalist,  who  speaks  of  the  book : 

"  From  the  first  word  in  the  introduction  to  the  last  of  the  narrative,  Doesticks'  book  is  • 
running  fire  of  comicality.  In  taking  up  the  book,  the  reader  finds  himself  precisely  in  the 
same  condition  as  the  man  who,  after  getting  into  a  boat,  is  borne  down  a  pleasant  stream 
independent  of  his  own  volition.  He  must  go  on,  and  he  is  glad  to  go  on,  too," 

Contents. 

How  Doesticks  came  to  think  of  it ;  Doesticks  satisfies  Philander  ;  Doesticks  visits 
Niagara ;  Doesticks  on  a  Bender ;  Seeking  a  Fortune  ;  Railroad  Felicities  ;  Sees  the  Lions  • 
Barnum's  Museum ;  Model  Boarding  Houses ;  Potency  of  Croton  Water— or  an  Aqueous 
quality  hitherto  unknown ;  Modern  Witchcraft  ;  City  Target  Excursion ;  A  New  Patent 
Medicine  Operation  ;  Doesticks  Running  with  the  "  Masheen  ;"  Street  Preaching  ;  A  Zea 
lous  Trio  ;  Disappointed  Love  ;  Modern  Patent  Piety  ;  Church  Going  in  the  City ;  Benevo- 
lence run  mad ;  Charitable  Cheating  ;  Millerite  Jubilee — How  they  did  n't  go  up  ;  The 
Great  "American  Tragedian  ;"  "  Side  Shows"  of  the  City  ;  New  Year's  Day  in  New  York  • 
Amusement  for  the  Million ;  A  2:40  Sleigh  Ride ;  Cupid  in  Cold  Weather ;  Valentine's 
^)ay ;  The  Kentucky  Tavern  ;  The  River  Darkies ;  The  Thespian  Wigwam ;  Theatricals 
again  ;  A  Night  at  the  Bowery  ;  Mysterious  Secrets  of  the  K.-N.'s  ;  A  Midnight  Initiation  , 
Philander  Fooled  ;  A  Diabolical  Conspiracy  ;  A  Shanghae  Infernal  Machine  ;  An  Evening 
with  the  Spiritualists ;  Rampant  Ghostology ;  Special  Express  from  Dog  Paradise  ;  A 
Canine  Ghost ;  'Lection  Day  ;  "  Paddy"  versus  "  Sam  ;"  Police  Adventures  ;  Mayor  Wood 
Around;  Damphool  Defunct ;  Place  of  his  Exile  ;  Description  Thereof— and  Exit ;  Keeping 
the  Maine  Law ;  Theatricals  once  more  ;  Shakespeare  Darkeyized ;  Macbeth  in  High 
Colors ;  Young  America  in  Long  Dresses  ;  Great  Excitement  in  Babydom. 

Notuts  of  it*  $mcs. 

The  Home  Journal  (N.  P.  Willis,  Esq.,  Editor\  says  : 

"  Things  so  copied,  so  talked  of,  so  pulled  out  of  every  pocket  to  be  lent  to  you,  so  quoted 
ind  so  relished  and  laughed  over,  as  Doesticks'  writings  never  were  launched  into  print." 

"  This  book  will '  take,'  and  is  bound  to  sell." — Boston  Post. 

"One  can  read  the  book  aguin  and  again,  and  not  tire." — Detroit  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  Any  mirth-inclined  reader  will  get  the  book's  worth  of  fun  out  of  four  chapters  in  tl  • 
work  It  is  beautifully  illustrated." — N.  Y.  U.  S.  Journal 

"  We  can  promise  our  readers  a  hearty  laugh  over  this  book." — New  Bedford  Jlercury. 

"  The  reader  is  advised  to  see  to  his  buttons  before  procuring  the  volume." — Salem 
Register. 

"  No  original  comic  writer  has  appeared  in  this  country  b»fore  Mr.  Tt  ompson,  alias  Doe- 
sticks  ;  he  will,  we  think,  achieve  a  position  as  a  literary  humorist,  oi  which  he  and  his 
country  will  have  occasion  to  be  proud." — JV.  Y.  Critic. 

"  We  cordially  recommend  this  volume,  not  only  as  a  successful  debut  in  a  new  field  of 
?'»«rature,  but  as  a  quaint  teacher  of  morality,  a  promoter  of  good  works,  and  an  improreT 
«f  public  U»te." — Newark  {N.  J3  Advertistr. 

RTJDD  &  CARLETON,  Publishers,  310  Broadway,  New  York. 


Hook    \>       Doesticks 


IN   PKESS, 

HISTORY  AND  RECORDS 

OF 

THE     ELEPHANT     CLUB 

I2mo.,  Cloth.     Price  $1  00. 


No  writer  who  has  appeared  before  the  American  public  has  met,  in  so 
short  a  period,  with  such  success  as  he,  who  within  less  than  two  years 
unpremeditatedly  kid  the  foundation  of  his  fame  as  the 

GREAT  AMERICAN  WIT  AND  HUMORIST, 

by  a  series  of  letters  written  over  the  imposing  signature  of 

Q.  K.  PHILANDER  DOESTICK'S,  P.B., 

Their  appearance  marks  the  birth  of  a  new  school  of  humor,  and  the 
unprecedented  sale  of  his  first  volume,  "  Doesticks,  What  He  Says,"  as 
also  the  popularity  of  his  poem,  "Plu-ri-bus-tah,"  is  sufficient  evidence  of 
their  originality  and  literary  excellence. 

^  SECOND  PROSE  WORK  BY  DOESTICKS 

is  now  in  press  and  will  be  issued  in  September.      In  the  perpetration  of 
which,  he  has  been  aided  and  abetted  by 

xsiCTZGrXxa?  H.TTSS  OOI^JSIIDE,  IVT.ID. 

a  humorist  of  celebrity. 

The  work  has  been  illustrated  from  original  designs  by  the  best  Artists, 
and  the  Publishers  believe  it  will  enjoy  a  greater  popularity  than  either 
of  the  Author's  preceding  works. 

*„*  Copies  sent  by  mail  to  any  address,  on  receipt  of  $1  00. 

RUDD  &  CARLETOX,  PUBLISHERS, 

310  BKOADWAY,  N".  Y. 

W.  H.  TlnKin,  Strr«otvj.»r,  94    f."  li".r.   f  -•  .  • . 


THE  MEMOIRS 

OF 

REV.    SPENCER    H.    CONE,    D.D. 

PREPARED   BY   HIS   FAMILY 

484  pp.  12/no.  Bound  in  Muslin,  Printed  on  fine  white  paper,  Price  $1  25 
35m5tIIC*J)t&    fa  { t  ft    a    Stttl    portrait. 


Dr.  Cone,  late  pastor  of  the  First  Baptist  Church,  city  of  New  York,  was  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  men  of  the  present  age,  his  life  was  full  of  romance  and  incident,  at 
as  well  as  a  bright  example  of  Christian  virtues  ;  the  volume  should  find  a  welcome  at 
every  fireside,  and  a  place  in  every  family  library. 

Among  the  numerous  testimonials  from  all  sections  of  the  country,  we  take  pleasure  in 
quoting  the  following : 

NOTICES     OF    THE    PRESS. 

"A  Biography  of  a  famous  preacher  and  man,  written  with  power  and  eloquence."— 
Philadelphia  Evening  Post. 

"  Its  perusal  will  be  grateful  to  every  person  who  admires  active  piety  and  can  appre- 
ciate Christian  virtues." — Family  Journal,  Albany. 

"  Spencer  Houghton  Cone,  one  of  those  good  and  faithful  servants  whose  career 
exemplifies  the  surpassing  beauty  of  a  genuine  religious  life.  The  work  is  produced  in 
elegant  form,  with  a  superb  engraving  of  Dr.  Cone.  It  deserves  a  place  as  a  standard  of 
good  works  and  deeds  in  all  families." — .y.  Y.  Daily  News. 

"  Its  subject,  one  of  the  first  men,  and  leading  minds,  for  years,  in  our  denomination, 
Will  ensure  it  a  wide  circulation." — Richmond,  fa.  Herald. 

"  Mr.  Cone's  reputation  as  an  eloquent  and  fervent  minister  of  the  Gospel,  as  a  strong, 
clear,  earnest  thinker,  was  acknowledged  throughout  the  Union." — Boston  Cfaeette. 

"  The  book  is  full  of  interest,  and  we  are  confident  will  disappoint  none  who  undertake 
ts  perusal." — Salem  Gazette. 

"  America  has  produced  but  few  so  popular  preachers,  his  personal  influence  was 
uibonnded,  he  was  indeed  a  man  of  talent,  of  larg«  attainment  in  the  school  of  Christ,  a 
•rilliant  preacher,  and  a  noble-hearted,  zealous  Christian  philanthropist." — Christian 
Jhronicle,  Philadelphia. 

"The  volume  is  a  profoundly  interesting  life-memorial  of  one  of  the  most  active, 
tamest,  eloquent  and  sincerely  religious  spirits  of  his  age  and  generation.  Spencer 
»I.  Cone  was  a  very  remarkable  man,  and  from  a  perusal  of  his  life,  we  are  convinced 
that  selfishness  and  narrow-mindedness  had  no  place  in  his  nature.  He  appears  to  us  to 
have  been  a  model  of  earnestness,  sincerity,  activity,  and  intelligence." — Ne-w  York 
Evening  Mirror. 

"The  volume  is  a  straightforward  simple  narrative  of  the  public  and  private  life  of 
Dr.  Cone,  from  his  youth  up  to  the  period  of  his  death.  It  will  be  read  with  interest  by 
thousands  out  of  the  denomination  to  which  Dr.  Cone  belonged,  as  well  as  by  thousand! 
of  his  own  denominational  friends  and  admirers." — Christian  Secretary,  Hartford. 

RUDD  &  CARLETON,  PUBLISHERS, 

310  BROADWAY,  N".  Y. 

Agents  wanted  to  Canvass  every  County  in  the  United  States,  who  can  make  from 
|£  to  $10  a  day  in  selling  the  above  popular  work. 
Copies  sent  (pmt  pci'f),  to  any  part  of  the  country,  on  receipt  of  81  25. 


Just  Published. 

A  NEW  AND  IMPROVKD  EDITION  OP  THE  CHEAPEST  AND  BEST  WORK 
ON  ARCHITECTURE. 


THE   CARPENTER'S  ASSISTANT 

AND 

RURAL  ARCHITECT. 

Illustrated  with  upwards  of  Two  Hundred  Copper  and  Electrotype 

Plates  ; 

Embracing  the  orders  of  Architecture,  Modern  and  Practical  Stair  Building, 
Plans,  Elevations,  Grounds,  etc.,  etc.,  of  Cottages,  Villas,  and  Farm  Buildings,  In 
eluding  Church  Edifices. 

BY  WILLIAM  BROWN   AND   LEWIS  E.  JOY, 
ARCHITECTS. 

Twenty-first  Thousand — Large  Quarto,  bound  in  Leather,  $3  50 
Dn  Do.         Sound  in  Morocco,  marble  edges,     5  00 

OPINIONS    OF    THE    WORK: 

.  [from  the  Telegraph.] 

This  is  a  book  which  every  carpenter  and  house  builder  should  own. 

Mr.  LIVSRMORE  : 

DEAR  SIR, — I  have  deemed  the  "Carpenters  Assistant  and  Rural  Architect,"  by 
Messrs.  Brown  and  Joy,  published  by  you,  as  one  of  the  most  valuable  guides  and 
oooks  of  reference  in  my  library,  and  take  an  early  opportunity  to  congratu- 
late you  on  the  appearance  of  a  new  and  improved  edition  of  the  work,  which  I 
have  just  purchased. 

The  Lithographic  Plate?,  comprising  designs  for  church  edifices,  adds  in  my  opi- 
nion a  striking  feature  to  the  book,  and  I  have  no  hesitation  in  averring  that  it  will 
be  sought  for  by  every  Architect,  Builder,  and  Carpenter  in  our  country,  wh» 
wishes  to  possess  the  most  concise  and  practical  treatise  published. 

Respectfully  yours, 
SAMUEL  PHILLIPS,  Architect  and  Builder,  Boston 

From  Practical  Cai-penters  and  Architects. 

We,  the  undersigned  citizens  of  Worcester,  Mass.,  practical  carpenters,  are  per- 
sonally acquainted  with  William  Brown,  Esq.,  Architect,  and  author  of  a  work, 
entitled  the  "  Carpenter's  Assistant  and  Rural  Architect."  We  have  examined 
that  work  with  attention,  and  commend  it  to  all  who  are  interested  in  the  study  or 
practice  of  the  art,  as  a  valuable  treatise  on  architecture,  and  it  is  eminently  prac- 
tical in  its  character.  We  cheerfully  recommend  it  to  the  patronage  of  carpenters 
and  the  public. 

EDWARD  LAMB,  J.  S.  WOODWORTH,        W.  R.  BIQELOW, 

FREEMAN  UPHAM,  M.  H.  MORSE,  HORATIO  N.  TOWER. 

P.  W.  f  AFT,  S.  D.  HARDING, 

I  have  carefully  examined  the  "  Carpenter's  Assistant  and  Rural  Architect,"  and 
believe  it  to  be  a  work  well  adapted  to  meet  the  wants  of  the  practical  workman, 
being  practical  in  its  character,  and  valuable  for  the  perspicuity  of  its  arrangement, 
clearness  of  its  designs,  and  brevity  of  its  explanations. 

I  would  most  cheerfully  recommend  it  to  the  patronage  of  carpenters  and  stu- 
dents. ELBRIDGE  BOYDEN,  Architect. 

Mr.  BROWN: 

SIR, — I  have  examined  your  work  on  architecture,  and  feeling  confident  of  Us 
utility,  from  its  extreme  simplicity  and  singular  adaptedness  to  meet  the  wants  of 
the  carpenters,  I  do  cheerfully  recommend  it  to  the  condition  of  every  carpenter 
tspecially  the  apprentice,  who  will  find  all  the  rudiments  of  architecture  necessary 
M  well  as  designs  for  practice.  A.  L.  BROOKS. 

RUDD  &  CARLETON,  Pullisliers, 

810  Broadway,  New  York. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


<-u 


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